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IDEALS OF HEROISM 
AND PATRIOTISM 


HENRIETTE MASSELING 

PUBLIC SCHOOLS, ATLANTA, GEORGIA 


D. C. HEATH & CO., PUBLISHERS 


BOSTON 


NEW YORK 


CHICAGO 



Copyright, 1920, 

By D. C. Heath & Co. 

2 c o 


©CLA566495 

APR l A 1920 

I 


PREFACE 


Ideals of Heroism and Patriotism is designed as a reader for the 
seventh and eighth grades of the elementary school or the first year 
of the Junior High School. It is adapted to the needs of the early 
adolescent period, when the pupil’s ideals are unfixed, his ideas un¬ 
formed, and his emotional nature susceptible to right or wrong de¬ 
velopment. The pupil reads much at this time of his life, and it is 
therefore important that what he reads should help him to form 
correct.ideas and to establish high ideals. 

Much of our best literature is intimately associated with the 
development of our country as a nation. It is the fundamental 
purpose of this book, through the medium of choice literary selections, 
to stimulate an intense love of country, to cultivate democratic 
ideas, to awaken a feeling of national unity, and to help the pupil to 
acquire ideals that are noble and inspirational. The selections have 
been arranged in groups about some common thought or ideal, and by 
their sequence they will enable the pupil to trace the American spirit 
through successive generations. It is hoped that the impressions 
gained will be of permanent value in unifying the national life of 
America and teaching a respect for her laws. 


in 


AC KNOWLED GMENTS 


The editor and publishers of Ideals of Heroism and Patriotism desire to 
express their appreciation to the following authors and publishers for cour¬ 
teous permission to use selections from their works: Thomas Y. Crowell 
Company for “America the Beautiful” by Katherine Lee Bates; the 
Bobbs-Merrill Company for “One Country” by Frank L. Stanton, and 
selections by Wilbur Dick Nesbit; Barse & Hopkins for “Carry On!” 
by Robert Service; Fleming H. Revell Company for “From Alien to 
Citizen” by Edward A. Steiner; The Roycroft Press for “A Message to 
Garcia” by Elbert Hubbard; Harr Wagner Publishing Company for 
poems by Joaquin Miller; David McKay for “O Captain! My Cap¬ 
tain!” by Walt Whitman; Edwin DuBois Shurter for “The Homes of 
the People” by Henry W. Grady; Franklin Knight Lane for the address 
on “The Makers of the Flag ”; Ford, Howard and Hulbert for the selections 
by Henry Ward Beecher; Little, Brown and Company for the selection 
by Edward Everett Hale; P. J. Kenedy for the selections from the works 
of Rev. Abram J. Ryan. The selections from Emerson, Holmes, Long¬ 
fellow, Lowell, Whittier, and Sill are used by permission and special ar¬ 
rangement with Houghton Mifflin Company, the authorized publishers 
of their works. Thanks are also due to Miss Nell Gatins, principal in the 
Atlanta public schools, for helpful criticism. 


IV 


CONTENTS 


PART I. —THE PIONEER SPIRIT 

The Norsemen. John Greenleaf Whittier . 

The Skeleton in Armor. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 

The Discovery of America. Washington Irving ... 

Columbus. Joaquin Miller . 

Pocahontas. William M. Thackeray . 

The Landing of the Pilgrims. .Felicia D. Hemans .. 

The English Colonists of Mas¬ 
sachusetts and Virginia. James Russell Lowell . 

The Quaker of the Olden Time . John Greenleaf Whittier .... 

The Acadian Exiles. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 

The Coureur de Bqis. John Finley . 

On the Wilderness Trail. Winston Churchill . 

The Exodus for Oregon. Joaquin Miller . 

The American. J. H. St. John de Crevecoeur. . 

The Song of Hiawatha. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 


page 

3 

7 

i 3 

17 

*9 

21 

23 

25 

26 
42 

44 

67 

7 i 

73 


PART II. —FREEDOM AND DEMOCRACY 


The Antiquity of Freedom. William Cullen Bryant 

The Signing of the Magna Carta Henry P. Warren . 

The Declaration of Independ¬ 
ence . Thomas Jefferson . 

A Speech in the Virginia Con¬ 
vention. Patrick Henry . 

Lexington. Oliver Wendell Holmes. 

Women of the Revolution. Mary E. Blake . 

Nathan Hale. Francis M. Finch . 

Washington on the Delaware. Joaquin Miller . 

Farewell Address to the People 

of the United States. George Washington .... 

The Fall of the Bastille. Charles Dickens . 

The Necessity of Government. John C. Calhoun. 

Lincoln . James Russell Lowell.. 

The Typical American. Henry W. Grady . 

Reverence for the Laws. Abraham Lincoln . 


81 

83 

87 

89 

92 

95 

98 

101 

103 

106 

116 

117 

118 

119 


V 



















































VI 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Sayings of Abraham Lincoln. 121 

O Captain! My Captain. Walt Whitman . 122 

Making the World Safe for 

Democracy.'. . .Woodrow Wilson . 123 

From Alien to Citizen. Edward A. Steiner . 127 

The Men to Make a State. . . .George Washington Doane . 129 

The Duty of an American. Theodore Roosevelt . 132 

A Nation’s Builders. Ralph Waldo Emerson . 133 


PART III. —ECONOMY AND INDUSTRY 


Opportunity. John James Ingalls . 

Wopk. Thomas Carlyle . 

For A’ That and A’ That . . . .Robert Burns . 

The Choir Invisible. George Eliot . 

Thriftograms. Benjamin Franklin . 

Too Dear for the Whistle. Benjamin Franklin . 

Poor Richard’s Sayings. Benjamin Franklin . 

The Democratic Ideal of Labor Orville Dewey . 

Opportunity. Edward Rowland Sill . 

The Monkey and the Peas . . . .Leo Tolstoi . 

Wanted. . J . G . Holland . 

To-day... Thomas Carlyle . 

Opportunity. Walter Malone ... 

A Message to Garcia.. . .Elbert Hubbard . 

The Builders.... Henry Wadsworth Longfellow . 

Daily Work. Charles Mackay . 

Thrift Wisdom.. 

The Homes of the People. . . . .Henry W . Grady . 

The Heritage. James Russell Lowell ........ 

Tubal Cain... Charles Mackay . 


137 

138 

139 
141 

141 

142 
144 

146 

147 

147 

148 

149 

150 

151 
156 

158 

1 59 
159 
162 

165 


PART IV. —THE AMERICAN FLAG 

My Pledge to My Flag. 1 .. 

Your Flag and My Flag. Wilbur D. Nesbit. 

The American Flag. Joseph R. Drake . 

The American Flag. ... Henry Ward Beecher. . 

Union and Liberty. Oliver Wendell Holmes 

God Save the Flag. Oliver Wendell Holmes 

Your Country and your Flag. .Edward Everett Hale .. 

What the Flag Means. Charles E. Hughes. . .. 

The Gall to the Colors. Arthur Guiterman. . .. 

Makers of the Flag. Franklin K . Lane . 

The Flag Goes by. Henry H. Bennett _ 


171 

171 

172 
174 

178 

179 

180 

181 

182 
184 

187 





































































CONTENTS 


vii 

PAGE 

The Flag Day Address . Woodrow Wilson . 188 

The Flag in Belgium . William C. Edgar . 19° 

The Old Flag Forever . Frank L. Stanton . 191 

A Toast to the Sons of the Flag George M. Mayo . 191 

Our National Banner . Edward Everett . 192 

1 

PART V. —THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


America the Beautiful . Katharine Lee Bates . 

The Duty and Value of 

Patriotism . John Ireland . 

What Makes a Nation . Wilbur D. Nesbit . 

Love of Country . Sir Walter Scott . 

The Fatherland . James Russell Lowell.. .. 

Defense of the Alamo . Joaquin Miller . 

The New South . Henry W. Grady . . 

One Country . Frank L. Stanton . 

The Monroe Doctrine .... James Monroe . 

America . IF iJiam Cullen Bryant.. .. 

The Right of the People to 

Rule .... Theodore Roosevelt.............. 

The Voice of the People. Ellen Glasgow . 

Carry On! . Robert W. Service. .. 

The Ship of State . Henry Wadsworth Longfellow . 

Recessional . Rudyard Kipling . 


195 

196 

197 
199 

199 

200 
202 

205 

206 

208 

209 
212 

23S 
2 37 
237 


PART VI. — PATRIOTISM IN SONG 


America... Samuel F. Smith . 

The Star Spangled Banner- Francis Scott Key ... 

Red, White, and Blue. D. T. Shaw Thomas a Becket... 

Dixie .. Dan Emmet . 

Maryland, My Maryland. James Ryder Randall . 

Firmly Stand, My Native Land... 

Hail! Columbia. J • Hopkinson . 

Keller’s American Hymn. M. Keller . 

We’re Tenting To-night. Walter Kittredge . 

Marseillaise. J • Eouget de Lisle . 

God Save the King. British National Hymn . 

Italian National Hymn. 


243 

244 

245 

247 

248 

249 

•250 

252 

253 

254 

255 

256 


PART VII. —OUR MEMORIAL DAYS 

Our Honored Dead . Henry Ward Beecher . 261 

Concord Hymn . Ralph Waldo Emerson . 262 

The Angels of Buena Vista — John Greenleaf Whittier . 263 
































































CONTENTS 


viii 


The Bivouac of the Dead. Theodore O'Hara. 

A Land without Ruins. .Abram J. Ryan . 

The Conquered Banner. Abram J. Ryan.. 

The Sword op Robert E. Lee.. .Abram J. Ryan.. 

Little Giffen. Frank O. Ticknor 

Gettysburg Speech. A braham Lincoln . 

Decoration Day Address. James A. Garfield 

The Blue and the Gray. Francis M. Finch 

Memorial Day, 1917 . Woodrow Wilson. 

The Soldier of 1914 . Rene Doumic. .. . 

Columbia’s Reply to France ... Reab . 

In Flanders Fields. John McCrae . 


In Flanders Fields. — An Answer C. B. Galbraith 


PAGE 

267 

271 

272 

274 

275 

277 

278 

279 

282 

283 

284 

285 

286 


PART VIII. —PROPHETIC VISIONS 

Hiawatha’s Vision . Henry Wadsworth Longfellow . 289 

The Pilgrim’s Vision . Oliver Wendell Holmes . 297 

The Vision of Sir Launfal . James Russell Lowell ... 300 

A Vision of the Future . The Bible . 313 

Lead, Kindly Light . John Cardinal Newman . 314 


Biographical Sketches. 315 

Key to Pronunciation. 327 

Vocabulary. 329 


/ 






































THE PIONEER SPIRIT 


One storm-trained seaman listened to the word; 

What no man saw he saw; he heard what no man heard. 
In answer he compelled the sea 
To eager man to tell 
The secret she had kept so well. 

Left blood and guilt and tyranny behind, 

Sailing still west the hidden shore to find; 

For all mankind that unstained scroll unfurled, 

Where God might write anew the story of the World. 


THE PIONEER SPIRIT 


Foreword 

The primary object in any course of historical reading is to con¬ 
nect the story of the past with the story of the present. The pupil 
should be led to see that the story of his country and the develop¬ 
ment of his race are along the same general lines with the development 
of all other races. He should be made to feel that he is but a note 
in the grand symphony begun when the Master of all music said, 
“Let there be Light,” and which will end only with the trumpet 
note which shall call all nations home. 

No teacher should permit a pupil to limit his vision to his own 
land. He should be made to feel his responsibility to all the devoted 
men and women who have gone before, who have endured hard¬ 
ships in order that the world might be a better place for him. He 
should be impressed with the nobility of his duty in carrying on the 
work of his forefathers. He should be taught never to fail in his 
duty to God and his native land, which is the true religion of all 
time. 

Discoveries and explorations are not limited to any age or any 
people. They are going on to-day just as they did when primitive 
races swept over Europe from their homes in Asia, and as truly now 
as when Columbus sailed the uncharted seas. Nor are discoveries 
and explorations limited to the field of history alone, though only 
examples of historical pioneers are given in this division. All are 
but a part of a beautiful story which God slowly unfolds to the eyes 
of his children. 

We owe a very real debt to our forefathers, a debt which we are 
prone to forget in the comforts and luxuries of the present. If we 
look with pride to-day on the splendid progress civilization has 
made in so many parts of the world, and especially in our own land, 
we must look back with gratitude to the sturdy men and women 
who faced untold hardships to give us what we have and to make 
us what we are. Our time is now at hand, and the future looks to 
us to bear our part of the burden, and in the words of to-day, to 
“carry on” the noble work begun by the pioneers. 


THE NORSEMEN 

John Greenleaf Whittier 

Gift from the cold and silent Past! 

A relic to the present cast, 

Left on the ever-changing strand 
Of shifting and unstable sand, 

Which wastes beneath the steady chime 
And beating of the waves of Time! 

Who from its bed of primal rock 

First wrenched thy dark, unshapely block? 

Whose hand, of curious skill untaught, 

Thy rude and savage outline wrought? 

Unchanged, alone, the same bright river 
Flows on, as it will flow forever! 

I listen and I hear the low 
Soft ripple where its waters go; 

I hear behind the panther’s cry, 

The wild-bird’s scream goes thrilling by, 

And shyly on the river’s brink 
The deer is stooping down to drink. . 

But hark! — from wood and rock flung back, 
What sound comes up the Merrimac? 

What sea-worn barks are those which throw 
The light spray from each rushing prow? 
Have they not in the North Sea’s blast, 
Bowed to the waves the straining mast? 
Their frozen sails, the low, pale sun 
Of Thule’s night has shone upon; 

Flapped by the sea-wind’s gusty sweep 
Round icy drift, and headland steep. 

3 


4 


THE PIONEER SPIRIT 


Wild Jutland’s wives and Lochlin’s daughters 
Have watched them fading o’er the waters, 
Lessening through driving mist and spray, 

Like white-winged sea-birds on their way! 

Onward they glide, — and now I view 
Their iron-armed and stalwart crew; 

Joy glistens in each wild blue eye, 

Turned to green earth and summer sky. 

Each broad, seamed breast has cast aside 
Its cumbering vest of shaggy hide; 

Bared to the sun and soft warm air, 

Streams back the Northmen’s yellow hair. 

I see the gleam of ax and spear, 

A sound of smitten shields I hear, 

Keeping a harsh and fitting time 
To Saga’s chant, and Runic rhyme; 

Such lays as Zetland’s Scald has sung, 

His grey and naked isles among; 

Or muttered low at midnight hour 
Round Odin’s mossy stone of power. 

The wolf beneath the Arctic moon 
Has answered to that startling rune; 

The Gael has heard its stormy swell, 

The light Frank knows its summons well; 

Iona’s sable-stoled Culdee 

Has heard it sounding o’er the sea, 

And swept, with hoary beard and hair, 

His altar’s foot in trembling prayer! 

’Tis past, — the ’wildering vision dies 
In darkness on my dreaming eyes! 

The forest vanishes in air, 

Hill-slope and vale lie starkly bare; 

I hear the common tread of men, 


THE NORSEMEN 


5 


And hum of work-day life again; 

The mystic relic seems alone 
A broken mass of common stone; 

And if it be the chiselled limb 
Of Berserker or idol grim, 

A fragment of Valhalla’s Thor, 

The stormy Viking’s god of War, 

Or Praga of the Runic lay, 

Or love-awakening Siona, 

I know not, — for no graven line, 

Nor Druid mark, nor Runic sign 
Is left me here, by which to trace 
Its name, or origin, or place. 

Yet, for this vision of the Past, 

This glance upon its darkness cast, 

My spirit bows in gratitude 
Before the Giver of all good, 

Who fashioned so the human mind, 

That, from the waste of Time behind, 

A simple stone, or mound of earth, 

Can summon the departed forth; 

Quicken the Past to life again, 

The Present lose in what hath been, 

And in their primal freshness show 
The buried forms of long ago. 

As if a portion of that Thought 
By which the Eternal will is wrought, 
Whose impulse fills anew with breath 
The frozen solitudes of Death, 

To mortal mind were sometimes lent, 

To mortal musings sometimes sent, 

To whisper — even when it seems 
But Memory’s fantasy of dreams — 
Through the mind’s waste of woe and sin, 
Of an immortal origin! 


6 


THE PIONEER SPIRIT 


Study Helps and Questions 

Long before Columbus landed in America, a band of bold sea rovers, 
called Norsemen, came from the northern part of Europe, and brav¬ 
ing the terrors of the unknown sea, made settlements in Iceland and 
Greenland, and later on the continent of North America. The loca¬ 
tion of their settlement on the continent is not known, but it is supposed 
to be somewhere in' New England. They left no permanent records, 
and all that we know of their discoveries we learn from their old songs 
or sagas by which the skalds or minstrels kept alive the deeds of their 
heroes. 

In the early part of the nineteenth century, a fragment of a statue, 
rudely carved out of the dark gray stone, was found in the little town 
of Bradford on the Merrimac. No one knows its origin, but it is gen¬ 
erally supposed to have been a relic of the visit of the Norsemen, who 
came to New England several hundred years before Columbus dis¬ 
covered America. 

1. Of what do you think the poet is speaking in the first stanza? 

2. What river is mentioned in the second stanza? 

3. Give a description of the forest as pictured in the poem. 

4. Who were the Norsemen? Where did they live? What kind 

of men were they? Describe their boats. 

5. Give a brief account of the coming of the Norsemen to America. 

6. Tell something of the religion of the Norsemen. 

7. What countries in Europe had they attacked before coming to 

America? 

8. Explain how the skalds kept alive the story of their adventures. 

9. What are “ runes ”? 

10. What part of our country did the Norsemen visit? 

11. Compare the land as they saw it with what it is to-day. 





THE SKELETON IN ARMOR 


7 


THE SKELETON IN ARMOR 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 

“Speak! speak! thou fearful guest! 
Who, with thy hollow breast 
Still in rude armor drest, 

Comest to daunt me! 

Wrapt not in Eastern balms, 

But with thy fleshless palms 
Stretched, as if asking alms, 

Why dost thou haunt me?” 

Then, from those cavernous eyes 
Pale flashes seemed to rise, 

As when the Northern skies 
Gleam in December; 

And, like the water’s flow 
Under December’s snow, 

Came a dull voice of woe 

From the heart’s chamber. 

“I was a Viking old! 

My deeds, though manifold, 

No Skald in song has told, 

No Saga taught thee! 

Take heed, that in thy verse 
Thou dost the tale rehearse, 

Else dread a dead man’s curse; 

For this I sought thee. 


“Far in the Northern Land, 
By the wild Baltic’s strand, 



8 


THE PIONEER SPIRIT 


I, with my childish hand, 

Tamed the gerfalcon; 

And, with my skates fast-bound, 
Skimmed the half-frozen Sound, 
That the poor whimpering hound 
Trembled to walk on. 


“Oft to his frozen lair 
Tracked I the grisly bear, 
While from my path the hare 
Fled like a shadow; 

Oft through the forest dark 
Followed the were-wolf’s bark, 
Until the soaring lark 

Sang from the meadow. 


“But when I older grew, 
Joining a corsair’s crew, 
O’er the dark sea I flew 
With the marauders. 
Wild was the life we led; 
Many the souls that sped, 
Many the hearts that bled, 
By our stern orders. 


“Many a wassail-bout 
Wore the long Winter out; 
Often our midnight shout 
Set the cocks crowing, 
As we the Berserk’s tale 
Measured in cups of ale, 
Draining the oaken pail, 
Filled to o’erflowing. 


THE SKELETON IN ARMOR 


9 


“Once as I told in glee 
Tales of the stormy sea, 

Soft eyes did gaze on me, 
Burning yet tender; 

And as the white stars shine 
On the dark Norway pine, 

On that dark heart of mine 
Fell their soft splendor. 

“ I wooed the blue-eyed maid, 
Yielding, yet half afraid, 

And in the forest’s shade 
Our vows were plighted. 
Under its loosened vest 
Fluttered her little breast, 

Like birds within their nest 
By the hawk frighted. 

“Bright in her father’s hall 
Shields gleamed upon the wall, 
Loud sang the minstrels all, 
Chanting his glory; 

When of old Hildebrand 
I asked his daughter’s hand, 

Mute did the minstrels stand 
To hear my story. 

“While the brown ale he quaffed, 
Loud then the champion laughed. 
And as the wind gusts waft 
The sea-foam brightly, 

So the loud laugh of scorn, 

Out of those lips unshorn, 

From the deep drinking-horn 
Blew the foam lightly. 


THE PIONEER SPIRIT 


“She was a Prince’s child, 

I but a Viking wild, 

And though she blushed and smiled, 
I was discarded I 
Should not the dove so white 
Follow the sea-mew’s flight, 

Why did they leave that night 
Her nest unguarded? 

“Scarce had I put to sea, 

Bearing the maid with me, — 

Fairest of all was she 

Among the Norsemen! — 

When on the white sea-strand, 
Waving his armed hand, 

Saw we old Hildebrand, 

With twenty horsemen. 

“Then launched they to the blast 
Bent like a reed each mast, 

Yet we were gaining fast, 

When the wind failed us; 

And with a sudden flaw 
Came round the gusty Skaw, 

So that our foe we saw 
Laugh as he hailed us. 

“And as to catch the gale 
Round veered the flapping sail, 
Death! was the helmsman’s hail, 
Death without quarter! 
Mid-ships with iron keel 
Struck we her ribs of steel; 

Down her black hulk did reel 
Through the black water! 


THE SKELETON IN ARMOR 


ii 


“As with his wings' aslant, 

Sails the fierce cormorant, 

Seeking some rocky haunt, 

With his prey laden, 

So toward the open main, 
Beating to sea again, 

Through the wild hurricane 
Bore I the maiden. 

“Three weeks we westward bore, 
And when the storm was o’er, 
Cloud-like we saw the shore 
Stretching to lee-ward; 

There for my lady’s bower 
Built I the lofty tower, 

Which, to this very hour 
Stands looking seaward. 

“There lived we many years; 
Time dried the maiden’s tears; 
She had forgot her fears, 

She was a mother; 

Death closed her mild blue eyes, 
Under that tower she lies; 

Ne’er shall the sun arise 
On such another! 

“ Still grew my bosom then, 

Still as a stagnant fen! 

Hateful to me were men, 

The sunlight hateful! 

In the vast forest here, 

Clad in my warlike gear, 

Fell I upon my spear, 

Oh, death was grateful! 


/ 


12 


THE PIONEER SPIRIT 


“Thus seamed With many scars 
Bursting these prison bars, 

Up to its native stars 
My soul ascended! 

There from the flowing bowl 
Deep drinks the warrior’s soul, 
Skoal! to the Northland! skoal!” 
— Thus the tale ended. 


Study Helps and Questions 

Nearly six hundred years before Columbus landed at San Salvador, 
the bold Norsemen had made settlements along the coast of North 
America. They left little to mark their discoveries. An old stone 
tower near Newport was formerly supposed by many persons to have 
been built by the Norsemen, but all authorities now agree that it was 
built by Arnold, one of the early governors of the colony of Rhode 
Island. 

One day as Longfellow was riding along the sea-shore at Newport, 
the old stone tower was pointed out to him. Several years before this 
a skeleton in rusted, broken armor had been dug up near Fall River. 
Longfellow took these two facts and wove around them the ballad, 
“ The Skeleton in Armor,” which represents the spirit of the dead 
warrior telling the story of his life. 

1. Who is speaking in the first stanza of the poem? 

2. State the comparisons that are made in the second stanza. 

3. Who were the Vikings? 

4. What is meant by the terms “ saga ” and “ skald ” ? 

5. What were the duties of the skald? 

6. Tell the story of the Viking’s boyhood. 

7. What did he do when he became a man? 

8. Who was “ old Hildebrand ” ? 

9. Tell the story of the Viking’s escape from the Northland. 

10. What reference is made to the old tower? 

11. How did the Viking die? 


THE DISCOVERY OF AMERICA 


13 


THE DISCOVERY OF AMERICA 

Washington Irving 

It was on Friday morning, the 12th of October, 1492, 
that Columbus first beheld the New World. As the day 
dawned he saw before him a level island, several leagues 
in extent, and covered with trees like a verdant orchard. 
Though apparently uncultivated, it was populous, for the 
inhabitants were seen issuing from all parts of the woods 
and running to the shore where they stood gazing at the 
ships. They appeared by their attitudes and gestures to 
be lost in astonishment at the sight. 

Columbus made signal for the ships to cast anchor, 
and the boats to be manned and armed. He entered his 
own boat, richly attired in scarlet, and bearing the royal 
standard; whilst Martin Alonzo Pinzon and Vincente 
Yanez, his brother, put off in company in their boats, 
each with a banner of the enterprise emblazoned with a 
green cross, having on each side the letters F. and Y., the 
initials of the Castilian monarchs Fernando and Ysabel. 

As he approached the shore, Columbus was delighted 
with the purity and suavity of the atmosphere, the 
crystal transparency of the sea, and the extraordinary 
beauty of the vegetation. On landing he threw himself 
upon his knees, kissed the earth, and returned thanks 
to God with tears of joy. His example was followed 
by the others, whose hearts indeed overflowed with the 
same feelings of gratitude. 

Columbus then rising drew his sword, displayed the 
royal standard, and, assembling round him the rest who 
had landed, he took solemn possession in the name of the 


14 


THE PIONEER SPIRIT 


Castilian sovereigns, giving the island the name of San 
Salvador. Having complied with the necessary forms 
and ceremonies, he called upon all present to take the 
oath of obedience to him, as Admiral and Viceroy, repre¬ 
senting the persons of the sovereigns. 

His followers now burst forth in the most extravagant 
transports. They had recently considered themselves de¬ 
voted men, hurrying forward to destruction; they now 
looked upon themselves as favorites of fortune, and gave 
themselves up to the most unbounded joy. They thronged 
around the Admiral with overflowing zeal, some embrac¬ 
ing him, others kissing his hands. Those who had been 
most mutinous and turbulent during the voyage were 
now most devoted and enthusiastic. Some begged favors 
of him, as if he had already wealth and honors in his gift. 
Many who had outraged him by their insolence now 
crouched at his feet, begging pardon for all the trouble 
they had caused him, and promising the blindest obedi¬ 
ence for the future. 

The natives of the island, when at the dawn of day they 
had beheld the ships hovering on the coast, had supposed 
them monsters which had issued from the deep during 
the night. They had crowded to the beach, and watched 
their movements with awful anxiety. Their veering about, 
apparently without effort, and the shifting and furling 
of their sails, resembling huge wings, filled them with 
astonishment. When they beheld their boats approach 
the shore and a number of strange beings, clad in glitter¬ 
ing steel or raiment of various colors, landing upon the 
beach, they fled in affright to the woods. 

Finding, however, that there was no attempt to pursue 
nor molest them, they gradually recovered from their 


THE DISCOVERY OF AMERICA 


15 


terror and approached the Spaniards with great awe, 
frequently prostrating themselves on the earth and making 
signs of adoration. During the ceremonies of taking 
possession, they remained gazing in timid admiration at 
the complexion, the beards, the shining armor, and splen¬ 
did dress of the Spaniards. The Admiral particularly 
attracted their attention, from his commanding height, 
his air of authority, his dress of scarlet, and the deference 
which was paid him by his companions, — all which 
pointed him out to be the commander. When they had 
still further recovered from their fears, they approached 
the Spaniards, touched their beards, and examined their 
hands and faces, admiring their whiteness. They now 
supposed that the ships had sailed out of the crystal firma¬ 
ment which bounded their horizon, or had descended 
from above on their ample wings, and that these marvel¬ 
lous beings were inhabitants of the skies. 

The natives of the island were no less objects of curi¬ 
osity to the Spaniards, differing as they did from any race 
of men they had ever seen. As Columbus supposed him¬ 
self to have landed on an island at the extremity of India, 
he called the natives by the general name of Indians, 
which was universally adopted before the true nature of 
his discovery was known, and has since been extended 
to all the aboriginals of the New World. 

The islanders were friendly and gentle. Their only 
arms were lances, hardened at the end by fire, or pointed 
with a flint or the teeth or bone of a fish. There was no 
iron to be seen, nor did they appear acquainted with its 
properties; for, when a drawn sword was presented to 
them, they took it by the edge. 

Columbus distributed among them colored caps, glass 


i6 


THE PIONEER SPIRIT 


beads, hawk’s bells, and other trifles, such as the Por¬ 
tuguese were accustomed to trade with among the na¬ 
tions of the gold coast of Africa. They received them 
eagerly, hung the beads round their necks, and were 
wonderfully pleased with their finery and with the sound 
of the bells. 

The Spaniards remained all day on shore, refreshing 
themselves after their anxious voyage amid the beauti¬ 
ful groves of the island, and returned on board late in 
the evening, delighted with all they had seen. 

On the following morning, at break of day, the shore 
was thronged with the natives; some swam off to the 
ships, others came in light barks which they called 
canoes, formed of a single tree, hollowed, and capable 
of holding from one man to the number of forty or fifty. 

The avarice of the discoverers was quickly excited 
by the sight of small ornaments of gold, worn by some 
of the natives in their noses. 

The island where Columbus had thus, for the first 
time, set his foot upon the New World was called by 
the natives Guana-hane. It still retains the name of 
San Salvador, which he gave to it, though called by the 
English Cat Island. The light which he had seen on 
the evening previous to his making land may have been 
on Watling’s Island, which lies a few leagues to the 
east. 

Study Helps and Questions 

1. When did Columbus first behold the New World? 

2. Give a picture of what he saw. 

3. Give an account of his landing. 

4. What name did Columbus give to the land and in whose name 

did he- take possession? 

5. What name does it bear to-day? 


COLUMBUS 


17 

6. Compare the actions of the crew on landing with their conduct 

during the voyage. 

7. What did the natives think of the Spaniards and how did they 

treat them? 

8. What name did Columbus give to the natives and why? 

9. Describe the boats and weapons of the natives. 

10. What did the Spaniards give to the natives in exchange for 
their gold ornaments? 

Note. — Give a brief review of conditions that led to the voyage of 
Columbus. Study the history of the rivalry that existed between 
Venice and Genoa over the trade of the East; the breaking up of 
trade routes by the Turks; the efforts of the Portuguese to find a new 
way; the struggle of Columbus for recognition of his plans; the aid 
rendered him by Queen Isabella; his setting sail over uncharted 
seas in frail ships; the difficulties of his voyage; his final success. 


COLUMBUS 
Joaquin Miller 

Behind him lay the gray Azores, 

Behind, the Gates of Hercules, 

Before him not the ghost of shores, 

Before him only shoreless seas. 

The good mate said; “Now must we pray, 
For lo! the very stars are gone; 

Brave Admiral, speak, what shall I say?” 
“Why, say, ‘Sail on! sail on! and on!’” 

“My men grow mutinous day by day, 

My men grow ghastly, wan and weak.” 

The stout mate thought of home; a spray 
Of salt wave washed his swarthy cheek. 

“What shall I say, brave Admiral, say, 

If we sight naught but seas at dawn?” 

“Why, you shall say, at break of day, 

‘Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!’” 



i8 


THE PIONEER SPIRIT 


They sailed and sailed as winds might blow, 

Until at last the blanched mate said: 

“Why, now, not even God would know 
Should I and all my men fall dead. 

These very winds forget their way, 

For God from these dread seas is gone. 

Now speak, brave Admiral, speak and say —” 

He said, “Sail on! sail on! and on!” 

They sailed. They sailed. Then spake the mate: 

“This mad sea shows his teeth to-night; 

He curls his lips, he lies in wait 
With lifted teeth as if to bite! 

Brave Admiral, say but one good word, 

What shall we do when hope is gone?” 

The words leaped like a leaping sword, 

“Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!” 

Then, pale and worn, he kept his deck, 

And peered through darkness. Ah, that night 
Of all dark nights! and then a speck, 

“A light! A light! A light! A light!” 

It grew, a starlit flag unfurled! 

It grew to be Time’s burst of dawn. 

He gained a world; he gave that world 
Its grandest lesson, “On! sail on!” 

Study Helps and Questions 

1. Locate “ the gray Azores.” 

2. Where are “ the Gates of Hercules,” and why are they so called? 

3. How many ships did Columbus have? Name and describe 

them. 

4. What was the general character of his crew? 

5. State some of the hardships Columbus faced. 

6. Why did the men grow “ mutinous ” ? Explain what is meant 

by “ mutinous.” 


POCAHONTAS 19 

7. What winds blow in the region where Columbus sailed? Ex¬ 

plain the sailors’ fear of these winds. 

8. What do you think of the courage and spirit of Columbus? 

9. What was the attitude of his crew? 

10. Describe the last night of the voyage. 

11. What is meant by “ the starlit flag ” ? 

12. Why does the poet compare it to the light Columbus saw in 

the dark? 

13. What “ world ” did Columbus gain? 

14. What lesson did he give in the expression “ On, sail on! ” 


POCAHONTAS 

William Makepeace Thackeray 

Wearied arm and broken sword 
Wage in vain the desperate fight; 
Round him press a countless horde, 
He is but a simple knight. 

Hark! a cry of triumph shrill 
Through the wilderness resounds, 
As, with twenty bleeding wounds, 
Sinks the warrior, fighting still. 

Now they heap the funeral pyre, 

And the torch of death they light; 
Ah! ’tis hard to die of fire! 

Who will shield the captive knight? 
Round the stake with fiendish cry 
Wheel and dance the savage crowd, 
Cold the victim’s mien and proud, 
And his breast is bared to die. 

Who will shield the fearless heart? 

Who avert the murderous blade? 
From the throng with sudden start 
See, there springs an Indian maid. 



20 


THE PIONEER SPIRIT 


Quick she stands before the knight: 

“Loose the chain, unbind the ring! 
I am daughter of the king, 

And I claim the Indian right!” 

Dauntlessly aside she flings 
Lifted axe and thirsty, knife, 
Fondly to his heart she clings, 

And her bosom guards his life! 

In the woods of Powhatan, 

Still Tis told by Indian fires 
How a daughter of their sires 
Saved a captive Englishman. 


Study Helps and Questions 

Jamestown, Virginia, was the first permanent English settlement in 
America. During its early days, the little colony would have perished, 
had it not been for the bold enterprise and wise leadership of Captain 
John Smith, one of its officers. According to a story which is doubted 
by some historians, Smith was once captured by some Indians and 
taken before Powhatan, a cunning old chief. Powhatan ordered two 
huge stones to be placed before him, and immediately strong warriors 
leaped upon Smith and forced his head down upon the stones, but 
just as they raised their clubs to slay him, Pocahontas, the young 
daughter of Powhatan, rushed forth, threw her arms about Smith’s 
head, and begged for his life. Her request was granted, and Powhatan 
adopted Smith as a son. Later Smith returned to Jamestown. Poca¬ 
hontas was always a good friend to the Virginia colonists, bringing 
them food in time of famine. She became a Christian and married 
John Rolfe, an Englishman. She died in England while on a visit, 
but her son returned to Virginia. Among the descendants of Poca¬ 
hontas are many noted Virginians. 

1. Who is the warrior referred to in this poem? 

2. With whom is he waging “ the desperate fight ” ? 

3. How does he fare in the struggle? 

4. Describe the torture the Indians are preparing to inflict on 

him. 


THE LANDING OF THE PILGRIMS 


21 


5. Tell the story of his rescue. 

6. Who was Powhatan? 

7. How did Pocahontas aid the Virginia colonists? 

8. Tell the story of the life of Pocahontas. 


THE LANDING OF THE PILGRIMS 

December 21 , 1620 

Felicia D. Hemans 

The breaking waves dashed high 
On a stern and rock-bound coast, 

And the woods against a stormy sky 
Their giant branches tossed; 

And the heavy night hung dark, 

The hills and waters o’er, 

When a band of exiles moored their bark 
On the wild New England shore. 

Not as the conqueror comes, 

They, the true-hearted, came, — 

Not with the roll of the stirring drums, 

And the trumpet that sings of fame; 

Not as the flying come, 

In silence and in fear: 

They shook the depths of the desert gloom 
With their hymns of lofty cheer. 

Amidst the storm they sang, 

And the stars heard, and the sea, 

And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang 
To the anthem of the free. 



22 


THE PIONEER SPIRIT 


The ocean eagle soared 

From his nest by the white wave’s foam; 

And the rocking pines of the forest roared: 

This was their welcome home! 

There were men with hoary hair 
Amidst that pilgrim band: 

Why had they come to wither there, 

Away from their childhood’s land? 

There was woman’s fearless eye, 

Lit by her deep love’s truth; 

There was manhood’s brow serenely high, 

And the fiery heart of youth. 

What sought they thus afar? 

Bright jewels of the mine? 

The wealth of seas, the spoils of war? 

They sought a faith’s pure shrine! 

Ay, call it holy ground, — 

The soil where first they trod! 

They have left unstained what there they found — 
Freedom to worship God! 

Study Helps and Questions 

1. Who were the Pilgrims? 

2. Why were they so called? 

3. Why are they spoken of as exiles? 

4. Tell their story prior to their coming to America. 

5. What were they seeking in the New World? 

6. What was the name of the ship in which they crossed the sea? 

7. When and where did they land? 

8. Describe the New England coast as they first saw it. 

9. Where did they establish a colony? 

10. Who composed the colony? 

11. Tell something of the hardships they endured. 

12. What heritage have they left the land? 


THE ENGLISH COLONISTS 


23 


THE ENGLISH COLONISTS OF MASSA¬ 
CHUSETTS AND VIRGINIA 1 

James Russell Lowell 

There have been two great distributing centers of 
the English race on this continent, Massachusetts and 
Virginia. Each has impressed the character of its early 
legislators on the swarms it has sent forth. Their ideals 
are in some fundamental respects the opposites of each 
other, and we can only account for it by an antagonism 
of thought beginning with the early framers of their 
respective institutions. New England abolished caste; 
in Virginia they still talk of “quality folks.” But it 
was in making education not only common to all, but in 
some sense compulsory on all, that the destiny of the 
free republics of America was practically settled. Every 
man was to be trained, not only to the use of arms, but 
of his wits also; and it is these which alone make the 
others effective weapons for the maintenance of freedom. 
You may disarm the hands, but not the brains, of a 
people, and to know what should be defended is the first 
condition of successful defense. Simple as it seems, it 
was a great discovery that the key of knowledge could 
turn both ways, that it could open, as well as lock, the 
door of power to the many. . . . 

I have little sympathy with declaimers about the Pil¬ 
grim Fathers, who look upon them all as men of grand 

1 From “New England Two Centuries Ago” in “Literary Essays 
by James Russell Lowell,” Vol. II of Lowell’s Prose Works (River¬ 
side Edition). Copyright, 1890, by Houghton Mifflin Company, 
Boston. 


24 


THE PIONEER SPIRIT 


conception and superhuman foresight. An entire ship’s 
company of Columbuses is what the world never saw. 
It is not wise to form any theory and fit our facts to 
it, as a man in a hurry is apt to cram his traveling-bag, 
with a total disregard of shape or texture. But per¬ 
haps it may be found that the facts will only fit com¬ 
fortably together on a single plan, namely, that the 
fathers did have a conception (which those will call grand 
who regard simplicity as a necessary element of grandeur) 
of founding here a commonwealth on those two eternal 
bases of Faith and Work; that they had, indeed, no 
revolutionary ideas of universal liberty, but yet, what 
answered the purpose quite as well, an abiding faith in 
the brotherhood of man and the fatherhood of God; and 
that they did not so much propose to make all things 
new, as to develop the latest possibilities of English law 
and English character, by clearing away the fences by 
which the abuse of the one was gradually discommon¬ 
ing the other from the broad fields of natural right. 
They were not in advance of their age, as it is called, 
for no one who is so can ever work profitably in it; but 
they were alive to the highest and most earnest thinking 
of their time. 


Study Helps and Questions 

1. What were the two great distributing centers of the English 

race on this continent? 

2. What was the character of each? 

3. Show by comparison how each has affected the character of the 

American people of to-day. 

4. What ideals formed the basis of the commonwealth established 

by the Pilgrim Fathers? 


THE QUAKER OF THE OLDEN TIME 


25 


THE QUAKER OF THE OLDEN TIME 

John Greenleaf Whittier 

The Quaker of the olden time I 
How calm and firm and true, 

Unspotted by its wrong and crime, 

He walked the dark earth through. 

The lust of power, the love of gain, 

The thousand lures of sin 
Around him, had no power to stain 
The purity within. 

With that deep insight which detects 
All great things in the small, 

And knows how each man’s life affects 
The spiritual life of all, 

He walked by faith and not by sight, 

By love and not by law; 

The presence of the wrong or right 
He rather felt than saw. 

He felt that wrong with wrong partakes, 
That nothing stands alone, 

That whoso gives the motive, makes 
His brother’s sin his own. 

And, pausing not for doubtful choice 
Of evils great or small, 

He listened to that inward voice 
Which called away from all. 

O Spirit of that early day, 

So pure and strong and true, 


26 


THE PIONEER SPIRIT 


Be with us in the narrow way 
Our faithful fathers knew. 

Give strength the evil to forsake, 

The cross of Truth to bear, 

And love and reverent fear to make 
Our daily lives a prayer! 

Study Helps and Questions 

1. Who were the Quakers? 

2. In what part of America did they settle? 

3. Name a great leader among them and tell what colony he es¬ 

tablished. 

4. How does this poem describe the Quakers? 

5. What ideals have they given us? 

6. Why is Whittier sometimes called “ the Quaker poet ” ? 


THE ACADIAN EXILES 
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 

Pleasantly rose next morn the sun on the village of Grand- 
Pre. 

Pleasantly gleamed in the soft, sweet air the Basin of Minas, 

Where the ships, with their wavering shadows, were riding at 
anchor. 

Life had long been astir in the village, and clamorous labor 

Knocked with its hundred hands at the golden gates of the 
morning. 

Now from the country around, from the farms and neighbor¬ 
ing hamlets, 

Came in their holiday dresses, the blithe Acadian peasants. 

Many a glad good-morrow and jocund laugh from the young 
folk 

Made the bright air brighter, as up from the numerous 
meadows, 



THE ACADIAN EXILES 27 

Where no path could be seen but the track of wheels in the 
greensward, 

Group after group appeared, and joined, or passed on the high¬ 
way. 

Long ere noon, in the village, all sounds of labor were silenced. 

Thronged were the streets with people; and noisy groups at 
the house-doors 

Sat in the cheerful sun, and rejoiced and gossiped together. 

Every house was an inn, where all were welcomed and feasted; 

For with this simple people, who lived like brothers together, 

All things were held in common, and what one had was an¬ 
other’s. 

Yet under Benedict’s roof hospitality seemed more abundant: 

For Evangeline stood among the guests of her father; 

Bright was her face with smiles, and words of welcome and 
gladness 

Fell from her beautiful lips, and blessed the cup as she gave it. 

Under the open sky, in the odorous air of the orchard, 

Stript of its golden fruit, was spread the feast of betrothal. 

There in the shade of the porch were the priest and the notary 
seated; 

There good Benedict sat, and sturdy Basil the blacksmith. 

Not far withdrawn from these, by the cider-press and the bee¬ 
hives, 

Michael the fiddler was placed, with the gayest of hearts and 
of waistcoats. 

Shadow and light from the leaves alternately played on his 
snow-white 

Hair, as it waved in the wind; and the jolly face of the fiddler 

Glowed like a living coal when the ashes are blown from the 
embers. 

Gayly the old man sang to the vibrant sound of his fiddle 

Tons les Bourgeois de Chartres , and Le Carillon de Dunkerque , 

And anon with his wooden shoes beat time to the music. 


28 


THE PIONEER SPIRIT 


Merrily, merrily whirled the wheels of the dizzying dances 

Under the orchard-trees and down the path to the meadows; 

Old folk and young together, and children mingled among 
them. 

Fairest of all the maids was Evangeline, Benedict’s daughter! 

Noblest of all the youths was Gabriel, son of the black¬ 
smith! 

So passed the morning away. And lo! with a summons 
sonorous 

Sounded the bell from its tower, and over the meadows a drum 
beat. 

Thronged erelong was the church with men. Without, in the 
churchyard, 

Waited the women. They stood by the graves, and hung on 
the headstones 

Garlands of autumn leaves and evergreens fresh from the 
forest. 

Then came the guard from the ships, and marching proudly 
among them 

Entered the sacred portal. With loud and dissonant clangor 

Echoed the sound of their brazen drums from ceiling and case¬ 
ment, — 

Echoed a moment only, and slowly the ponderous portal 

Closed, and in silence the crowd awaited the will of the soldiers. 

Then uprose their commander, and spake from the steps of the 
altar, 

Holding aloft in his hands, with its seals, the royal commission. 

“You are convened this day,” he said, “by his Majesty’s 
orders. 

Clement and kind has he been; but how you have answered 
his kindness 

Let your own hearts reply! To my natural make and my 
temper 

Painful the task is I do, which to you I know must be grievous, 


THE ACADIAN EXILES 


2 9 


Yet must I bow and obey, and deliver the will of our monarch; 

Namely, that all your lands, and dwellings, and cattle of all 
kinds 

Forfeited be to the crown; and that you yourselves from this 
province 

Be transported to other lands. God grant you may dwell there 

Ever as faithful subjects, a happy and peaceable people! 

Prisoners now I declare you; for such is his Majesty’s pleas¬ 
ure!” 

As, when the air is serene in the sultry solstice of summer, 

Suddenly gathers a storm, and the deadly sling of the hail¬ 
stones 

Beats down the farmer’s corn in the field and shatters his 
windows, 

Hiding the sun, and strewing the ground with thatch from the 
house-roofs, 

Bellowing fly the herds, and seek to break their enclosures; 

So on the hearts of the people descended the words of the 
speaker. 

Silent a moment they stood in speechless wonder, and then 
rose 

Louder and ever louder a wail of sorrow and anger, 

And, by one impulse moved, they madly rushed to the door¬ 
way. 

Vain was the hope of escape; and cries and fierce imprecations 

Rang through the house of prayer; and high o’er the heads 
of the others 

Rose, with his arms uplifted, the figure of Basil the blacksmith, 

As, on a stormy sea, a spar is tossed by the billows. 

Flushed was his face and distorted with passion; and wildly he 
shouted, — 

“Down with the tyrants of England; we never have sworn 
them allegiance! 

Death to these foreign soldiers, who seize on our homes and 
our harvests!” 


THE PIONEER SPIRIT 


30 

More he fain would have said, but the merciless hand of a 
soldier 

Smote him upon the mouth, and dragged him down to the 
pavement. 

In the midst of the strife and tumult of angry contention, 

Lo! the door of the chancel opened, and Father Felician 

Entered, with serious mien, and ascended the steps of the altar. 

Raising his reverend hand, with a gesture he awed into silence 

All that clamorous throng; and thus he spake to his people; 

Deep were his tones and solemn; in accents measured and 
mournful 

Spake he, as, after the tocsin’s alarum, distinctly the clock 
strikes. 

“What is this that ye do, my children? what madness has 
seized you? 

Forty years of my life have I labored among you, and taught 
you, 

Not in word alone, but in deed, to love one another! 

Is this the fruit of my toils, of my vigils and prayers and pri¬ 
vations? 

Have you so soon forgotten all lessons of love and forgiveness? 

This is the house of the Prince of Peace, and would you pro¬ 
fane it 

Thus with violent deeds and hearts overflowing with hatred? 

Lo! where the crucified Christ from his cross is gazing upon you! 

See! in those sorrowful eyes what meekness and holy compas¬ 
sion! 

Hark! how those lips still repeat the prayer, ‘O Father, forgive 
them!’ 

Let us repeat that prayer in the hour when the wicked assail 
us, 

Let us repeat it now, and say, ‘O Father, forgive them!”’ 

Few were his words of rebuke, but deep in the hearts of his 
people 


THE ACADIAN EXILES 


31 

Sank they, and sobs of contrition succeeded the passionate out¬ 
break, 

While they repeated his prayer, and said, “O Father, forgive 
them!”' 

Then came the evening service. The tapers gleamed from 
the altar. 

Fervent and deep was the voice of the priest, and the people 
responded, 

Not with their lips alone, but their hearts; and the Ave Maria 

Sang they, and fell on their knees, and their souls, with devo¬ 
tion translated 

Rose on the ardor of prayer, like Elijah ascending to heaven. 

Meanwhile had spread in the village the tidings of ill, and 
on all sides 

Wandered, wailing, from house to house the women and 
children. 

Long at her father’s door Evangeline stood, with her right 
hand 

Shielding her eyes from the level rays of the sun, that, de¬ 
scending 

Lighted the village street with mysterious splendor, and roofed 
each 

Peasant’s cottage with golden thatch, and emblazoned its 
windows. 

Long within had been spread the snow-white cloth on the 
table; 

There stood the wheaten loaf, and the honey fragrant with 
wild-flowers; 

There stood the tankard of ale, and the cheese fresh brought 
from the dairy: 

And, at the head of the board the great armchair of the 
farmer. 


THE PIONEER SPIRIT 


32 

Thus did Evangeline wait at her father’s door, as the 
sunset 

Threw the long shadows of trees o’er the broad ambrosial 
meadows. 

Ah! on her spirit within a deeper shadow had fallen, 

And from the fields of her soul a fragrance celestial ascended,— 

Charity, meekness, love, and hope, and forgiveness, and pa¬ 
tience! 

Then all-forgetful of self, she wandered into the village, 

Cheering with looks and words the mournful hearts of the 
women, 

As o’er the darkening fields with lingering steps they departed, 

Urged by their household cares, and the weary feet of their 
children. 

Down sank the great red sun, and in golden, glimmering 
vapors 

Veiled the light of his face, like the Prophet descending from 
Sinai. 

Sweetly over the village the bell of the Angelus sounded. 

Meanwhile, amid the gloom, by the church Evangeline lin¬ 
gered. 

All was silent within; and in vain at the doors and the win¬ 
dows 

Stood she, and listened and looked, till, overcome by emotion, 

“Gabriel!” cried she aloud with tremulous voice; but no 
answer 

Came from the graves of the dead, nor the gloomier grave of 
the living. 

Slowly at length she returned to the tenantless house of her 
father. 

Smouldered the fire on the hearth, on the board was the supper 
untasted, 

Empty and drear was each room, and haunted with phantoms 
of terror. 


THE ACADIAN EXILES 


33 

Sadly echoed her step on the stair and the floor of her 
chamber. 

In the dead of the night she heard the disconsolate rain fall 

Loud on the withered leaves of the sycamore tree by the win¬ 
dow. 

Keenly the lightning flashed; and the voice of the echoing 
thunder 

Told her that God was in heaven, and governed the world he 
created! 

Then she remembered the tale she had heard of the justice of 
Heaven; 

Soothed was her troubled soul, and she peacefully slumbered 
till morning. 

Four times the sun had risen and set; and now on the fifth 
day 

Cheerily called the cock to the sleeping maids of the farm¬ 
house. 

Soon o’er the yellow fields, in silent and mournful procession, 

Came from the neighboring hamlets and farms the Acadian 
women, 

Driving in ponderous wains their household goods to the sea 
shore, 

Pausing and looking back to gaze once more on their dwellings, 

Ere they were shut from sight by the winding road and the 
woodland. 

Close at their sides their children ran, and urged on the oxen, 

While in their little hands they clasped some fragments of 
playthings. 


Thus to the Gaspereau’s mouth they hurried; and there on 
the sea-beach 

Piled in confusion lay the household goods of the peasants. 
All day long between the shore and the ships did the boats 

ply; 


34 


THE PIONEER SPIRIT 


All day long the wains came laboring down from the village. 

Late in the afternoon when the sun was near to his setting, 

Echoed far o’er the fields came the roll of drums from the 
churchyard. 

Thither the women and children thronged. On a sudden the 
church-doors 

Opened, and forth came the guard, and marching in gloomy 
procession 

Followed the long imprisoned, but patient, Acadian farmers. 

Even as pilgrims, who journey afar from their homes and their 
country, 

Sing as they go, and in singing forget they are weary and way¬ 
worn, 

So with songs on their lips the Acadian peasants descended 

Down from the church to the shore, amid their wives and their 
daughters. 

Foremost the young men came; and, raising together their 
voices, 

Sang with tremulous lips a chant of the Catholic Missions: — 

“Sacred heart of the Saviour! O inexhaustible fountain! 

Fill our hearts this day with strength and submission and 
patience!” 

Then the old men, as they marched, and the women that stood 
by the wayside 

Joined in the sacred psalm, and the birds in the sunshine above 
them 

Mingled their notes therewith, like voices of spirits departed. 

Halfway down to the shore Evangeline waited in silence, 

Not overcome with grief, but strong in the hour of affliction, — 

Calmly and sadly she waited, until the procession approached 
her, 

And she beheld the face of Gabriel pale with emotion. 

Tears then filled her eyes, and, eagerly running to meet 
him, 


THE ACADIAN EXILES 35 

Clasped she his hands, and laid her head on his shoulder, and 
whispered, — 

“Gabriel! be of good cheer! for if we love one another 

Nothing, in truth, can harm us, whatever mischances may hap¬ 
pen!” 

Smiling she spake these words; then suddenly paused, for her 
father 

Saw she slowly advancing. Alas! how changed was his aspect! 

Gone was the glow from his cheek, and the fire from his eye, 
and his footstep 

Heavier seemed with the weight of the heavy heart in his 
bosom. 

But with a smile and a sigh, she clasped his neck and em¬ 
braced him, 

Speaking words of endearment where words of comfort availed 
not. 

Thus to the Gaspereau’s mouth moved on that mournful pro¬ 
cession. 


There disorder prevailed, and the tumult and stir of em¬ 
barking. 

Busily plied the freighted boats; and in the confusion 

Wives were torn from their husbands, and mothers, too late, 
saw their children 

Left on the land, extending their arms, with wildest entreaties. 

So unto separate ships were Basil and Gabriel carried, 

While in despair on the shore Evangeline stood with her father. 

Half the task was not done when the sun went down, and the 
twilight 

Deepened and darkened around; and in haste the refluent 
ocean 

Fled away from the shore, and left the line of the sand-beach 

Covered with waifs of the tide, with kelp and the slippery 
seaweed. 


36 THE PIONEER SPIRIT 

Farther back in the midst of the household goods and the 
wagons, 

Like to a gypsy camp, or a leaguer after a battle, 

All escape cut oh by the sea, and the sentinels near them, 

Lay encamped for the night the houseless Acadian farmers. 

Back to its nethermost caves retreated the bellowing ocean, 

Dragging adown the beach the rattling pebbles, and leaving 

Inland and far up the shore the stranded boats of the sailors. 

Then, as the night descended, the herds returned from their 
pastures; 

Sweet was the moist still air with the odor of milk from their 
udders; 

Lowing they waited, and long, at the well-known bars of the 
farm-yard, 

Waited and looked in vain for the voice and the hand of the 
milkmaid. 

Silence reigned in the streets; from the church no Angelus 
sounded, 

Rose no smoke from the roofs, and gleamed no lights from the 
windows. 


But on the shores meanwhile the evening fires had been 
kindled, 

Built of the driftwood thrown on the sands from wrecks in the 
tempest. 

Round them shapes of gloom and sorrowful faces were gathered, 

Voices of women were heard, and of men, and the crying of 
children. 

Onward from fire to fire, as from hearth to hearth in his parish, 

Wandered the faithful priest, consoling and blessing and cheer¬ 
ing, 

Like unto shipwrecked Paul on Melita’s desolate seashore. 

Thus he approached the place where Evangeline sat with her 
father, 


THE ACADIAN EXILES 


37 


And in the flickering light beheld the face of the old man, 

Haggard and hollow and wan, and without either thought or 
emotion, 

E’en as the face of a clock from which the hands have been 
taken. 

Vainly Evangeline strove with words and caresses to cheer 
him, 

Vainly offered him food; yet he moved not, he looked not, he 
spake not, 

But, with a vacant stare, ever gazed at the flickering firelight. 

“ Benedicite!” murmured the priest, in tones of compassion. 

More he fain would have said, but his heart was full, and his 
accents 

Faltered and paused on his lips, as the feet of a child on a 
threshold, 

Hushed by the scene he beholds, and the awful presence of 
sorrow. 

Silently, therefore, he laid his hand on the head of the maiden, 

Raising his tearful eyes to the silent stars that above them 

Moved on their way, unperturbed by the wrongs and sorrows 
of mortals. 

Then sat he down at her side and they wept together in silence. 


Suddenly rose from the south a light, as in autumn the 
blood-red 

Moon climbs the crystal walls of heaven, and o’er the horizon 

Titan-like stretches its hundred hands upon mountain and 
meadow, 

Seizing the rocks and the rivers, and piling huge shadows to¬ 
gether. 

Broader and ever broader it gleamed on the roofs of the village, 

Gleamed on the sky and the sea, and the ships that lay in the 
roadstead. 

Columns of shining smoke uprose, and flashes of flame were 


3 8 THE PIONEER SPIRJT 

Thrust through their folds and withdrawn, like the quivering 
hands of a martyr. 

Then as the wind seized the gleeds and the burning thatch, 
and uplifting, 

Whirled them aloft through the air, at once from a hundred 
house-tops 

Started the sheeted smoke with flashes of flame intermingled. 

These things beheld in dismay the crowd on the shore and on 
shipboard. 

Speechless at first they stood, then cried aloud in their anguish, 

“We shall behold no more our homes in the village of Grand- 
Pre!” 

Loud on a sudden the cocks began to crow in the farm-yards, 

Thinking the day had dawned; and anon the lowing of cattle 

Came on the evening breeze, by the barking of dogs inter¬ 
rupted. 

Then rose a sound of dread, such as startles the sleeping en¬ 
campments 

Far in the western prairies or forests that skirt the Nebraska, 

When the wild horses affrighted sweep by with the speed of 
the whirlwind, 

Or the loud bellowing herds of buffaloes rush to the river. 

Such was the sound that arose on the night as the herds and 
the horses 

Broke through their folds and fences, and madly rushed o’er 
the meadows. 

Overwhelmed with the sight, yet speechless, the priest and 
the maiden 

Gazed on the scene of terror that reddened and widened before 
them; 

And as they turned at length to speak'to their silent compan¬ 
ion, 

Lo! from his seat he had fallen, and stretched abroad on the 
seashore 


THE ACADIAN EXILES 


39 

Motionless lay his form, from which the soul had departed. 
Slowly the priest uplifted the lifeless head, and the maiden 
Knelt at her father’s side, and wailed aloud in her terror. 

Then in a swoon she sank, and lay with her head on his bosom. 
Through the long night she lay in deep oblivious slumber; 
And when she woke from the trance, she beheld a multitude 
near her. 

Faces of friends she beheld, that were mournfully gazing upon 
her, 

Pallid, with tearful eyes, and looks of saddest compassion. 
Still the blaze of the burning village illumined the landscape, 
Reddened the sky overhead, and gleamed on the faces around 
her, 

And like the day of doom it seemed to her wavering senses. 
Then a familiar voice she heard as it said to the people — 
“Let us bury him here by the sea. When a happier season 
Brings us again to our homes from the unknown land of our 
exile, 

Then shall his sacred dust be piously laid in the churchyard.” 
Such were the words of the priest. And there in haste by the 
seaside, 

Having the glare of the burning village for funeral torches, 
But without bell or book, they buried the farmer of Grand-Pre. 
And as the voice of the priest repeated the service of sorrow, 
Lo! with a mournful sound, like the voice of a vast congrega¬ 
tion, 

Solemnly answered the sea, and mingled its roar with the 
dirges. 

’Twas the returning tide, that afar from the waste of the ocean, 
With the first dawn of the day, came heaving and hurrying 
landward. 

Then recommenced once more the stir and noise of embarking; 
And with the ebb of the tide the ships sailed out of the harbor, 
Leaving behind them the dead on the shore, and the village in 
ruins. 


40 


THE PIONEER SPIRIT 


Study Helps and Questions 

The name Acadia was given to the province now known as Nova 
Scotia. It was settled by the French in the early part of the seven¬ 
teenth century, but was captured by the English early in the eighteenth 
century. 

The Acadians were simple peasants who lived quietly on their humble 
farms and knew little of the affairs of the outside world. They were 
entirely French in their feelings and customs, and had no love for 
their English captors. They never took the oath of allegiance to the 
English crown, and during the struggle between France and England 
for colonial supremacy, the Acadians rendered whatever aid they 
could to the French. Just after Braddock’s defeat in the last French 
and Indian War, England decided to deport a large part of the Aca¬ 
dians and scatter them in English colonies farther south. The re¬ 
moval of the English colonists who lived near the “ Basin of Minas ” 
was entrusted to Lt. Col. Winslow. He landed at the little village of 
Grand-Pre late in August, and at once set about carrying out his 
plan's. Early in September he summoned all the men to the church 
to hear the king’s orders. He told them that because of their dis¬ 
loyalty, all their lands and possessions except their household goods 
and money were forfeited to the crown, and that they themselves were 
to be sent into exile. Unable to make any resistance because of the 
presence of the soldiers, the poor Acadians were sent aboard the Eng¬ 
lish vessels anchored in the harbor, and lighted by the blazing ruins 
of their homes and harvests, they set sail for the unknown land of 
their exile. They were scattered among the English colonies from 
Massachusetts to Georgia, but being alien in thought and feeling, 
they could make no homes among these strangers. Many died broken¬ 
hearted, and others sought a rfi'fuge among the French in the Mis¬ 
sissippi Valley, where their descendants live to-day. 

In his poem “ Evangeline,” Longfellow gives a picture of the lives 
of the simple Acadian peasants. Evangeline is the daughter of the 
wealthiest farmer of Grand Pre, and is betrothed to Gabriel, the son 
of Basil, the blacksmith. According to an old custom, the betrothal 
feast is spread and all the simple villagers gather to wish good luck 
to the young people. Suddenly the alarm is sounded and all the men 
are summoned to the church to hear the king’s orders to deport them. 
Then indeed are heart-rending scenes as the Acadians embark on the 
English ships for foreign lands, crushed by the sight of their burning 
homes and harvests. Evangeline’s father drops dead upon the beach, 


THE ACADIAN EXILES 


41 


and in the confusion she is separated from Gabriel. Patiently they 
seek each other in the land of their exile, but it is only after long years 
have passed that they find each other. Evangeline has become a 
sister of charity, and as she ministers to the poor in an almshouse she 
finds Gabriel dying of a fever. Only the part of the story that tells 
of the exile of the Acadians is given in this selection. 


1. Where was Acadia and what is its present name? 

2. Give the location of the Minas Basin and the little village of 

Grand Pre. 

3. By whom was Acadia settled? 

4. Describe the life of the humble peasants. 

5. By whom was Acadia conquered? 

6. What were the feelings of the people. toward their conquerors? 

7. How did England punish their disloyalty? 

8. What did the English king expect to accomplish by deporting 

the Acadians and scattering them among the English colonies 
farther south? 

9. Where did the Acadians finally settle in the United States? 

10. Why were they happy among the French colonists? 

11. Where do their descendants in America live at the present time? 


1. Who was Evangeline? To whom was she betrothed? Describe 

the betrothal feast. 

2. Why were the men summoned to the church? Tell what hap¬ 

pened there. How did the Acadians receive the king’s orders. 

3. Describe the scenes when the Acadians embarked on the Eng¬ 

lish ships, and tell about the burning of Grand Pre. 

4. What happened to Evangeline and her father? Tell how Evan¬ 

geline and Gabriel were separated. Who comforted the 
people in their time of trouble? 

5. What happened to the Acadians after their departure from 

Grand Pre? Read the rest of the poem and tell how Evange¬ 
line and Gabriel sought each other and how they found each 
other. 




42 


THE PIONEER SPIRIT 


THE “COUREUR DE BOIS” 

John H. Finley 

There is a class of topographical engineers “ older 
than the schools,” “more unerring than mathematicians.” 
They are the wild animals which traverse the forests 
not by compass but by instinct, find the easiest paths 
to the lowest passes in the mountains, to the shallowest 
fords, to the richest pastures, to the salt licks. ... It is 
a mistake, therefore, we are reminded, to suppose that 
the American forests and plains were trackless before 
men came. They were coursed by many paths. . . . 

Such were the paths by which the runners of the 
woods, the French coureurs de bois , first emerged, after 
following the watercourses, upon the western forest 
glades and the edges of the prairies, and astonished the 
aboriginal human owners of those wild highways that 
had known only the soft feet of the wolf and fox and 
bear, the hoofs of the buffaloes and deer, and the bare 
feet or the moccasins of the Indians. . . . 

The French followed the streams which kept them in 
touch with the sea. But they had finally, in their pio¬ 
neering, to take to the trails and the forests. And 
these runners-of-the-woods were the “ pioneers of pio¬ 
neers,” who often, in unrecorded advance of priest and 
explorer, pushed their adventurous traffic in French guns 
and hatchets, French beads and cloth, French tobacco 
and brandy, till they knew and were known to the ab¬ 
original inhabitants, “from where the stunted Eskimos 
burrowed in their snow caves to where the Comanches 


THE “ COUREUR DE BOIS” 43 

scoured the plains of the south with their banditti 
cavalry.” . . . 

“This class of men is not extinct/’ said Parkman 
twenty or thirty years ago; “in the cheerless wilds be¬ 
yond the northern lakes, or among the solitudes of the 
distant West, they may still be found, unchanged in life 
and character since the day when Louis the Great claimed 
sovereignty over the desert empire.” 

But their mission, if any survive till now, is past. 
The paths, surveyed by the beasts and opened by these 
pioneers to the feet of priests, explorers, and traders, 
have let in the influences that in time destroyed all they 
loved and braved the solitude for. The trace has be¬ 
come the railroad, and the smell of the gasoline motor is 
even on the Oregon trail; for, in general, it has been 
said of the forest part of the valley, “where there is a 
railway to-day, there was a path a century and a quar¬ 
ter ago,” and that means longer ago; and it may be 
added that where there was a French trading-post, or 
fort, or portage, there is a city to-day, not because of 
the attraction of the populations of those places to the 
prospective railroad, but because of their natural high¬ 
way advantage, learned even by the buffaloes. Not 
all paths have evolved into railroads, but the railroads 
have followed most of these natural paths — paths of 
the coureurs de bois, of those instinctively searching for 
mountain passes, of low portages from valley to valley, 
the shortest ways and the easiest grades. ... It is a 
common, unimaginative metaphor to call the engine 
which leads the mighty trains across the country the 
iron horse, but it is deserving of a nobler figure. It is 
the iron coureur de bois still leading Europe into America, 


44 


THE PIONEER SPIRIT 


and America into a newer America. . . . The railroad 
outran the settler and “beckoned him on/’ just as the 
coureur de bois outran the slower-going migrant and 
beckoned him on to ever new frontiers: the buffalo, the 
coureur de bois, the engineer — in turn. . . . 


Study Helps and Questions 


The term coureurs de bois is used in speaking of the French or half- 
breed trappers and hunters of the great northwest region in Canada. 
They were bold and fearless men and established their trading posts 
from the southern lakes to the far north. In some parts of Canada 
they still carry on their work. 

1. What is the meaning of the title coureur de bois 

2. Why is it a mistake to call the American fipcJesls trackless 

before men came? 

3. Of what use to the explorer were the trails made by animalsf 

4. What class of French explorers first penetratedkl^Pfor^&? n9 

5. What was their object? 31 ol odd lo f 

6. Where is this class of men still found in th^Wg^j- 

7. Why were railroads generally built along trails made by the 

coureurs de bois? 


ON THE WILDERNESS TRAIL 1 

Winston Churchill 

The next vivid thing in my memory is the view of 
the last barrier Nature had reared between us and the 
delectable country. It stood like a lion at the gateway, 
and for some minutes we gazed at it in terror from 
Powell’s Valley below. How many thousands have 
looked at it with sinking hearts! How many weaklings 
has its frown turned back! There seemed to be engraved 

1 From The Crossing. Copyright by the MacMillan Company, used by 
permission of and special arrangement with the publishers. 



ON THE WILDERNESS TRAIL 


45 


upon it the dark history of the dark and bloody land 
beyond. Nothing in this life worth having is won for 
the asking; and the best is fought for, and bled for, 
and died for. Written, too, upon that towering wall of 
white rock, in the handwriting of God Himself, is the 
history of the indomitable Race to which we belong. 

For fifty miles we travelled under it, towards the Gap, 
our eyes drawn to it by a resistless fascination. The 
sun went over it early in the day, as though glad to 
leave the place, and after that a dark scowl would set¬ 
tle there. At night we felt its presence, like a curse. 
Even Polly Ann was silent. And she had need to be 
now. When it was necessary, we talked in low tones, 
and the bell-clappers on the horses were not loosed at 
night. It was here, but four years gone, that Daniel 
Boone’s family was attacked, and his son killed by the 
Indians. 

We passed, from time to time, deserted cabins and 
camps, and some places that might once have been called 
settlements: Elk Garden, where the pioneers of the last 
four years had been wont to lay in a simple supply of 
seed corn and Irish potatoes; and the spot where Hen¬ 
derson and his company had camped on the way to es¬ 
tablish Boonesboro two years before. And at last we 
struck the trace that mounted upward to the Gateway 
itself. 

And now we had our hands upon the latch, and God 
alone knew what was behind the gate. Toil, with a 
certainty, but our lives had known it. Death, per¬ 
chance. But Death had been near to all of us, and 
his presence did not frighten. As we climbed towards 
the Gap, I recalled with strange aptness a quaint saying 


THE PIONEER SPIRIT 


46 

of my father’s that Kaintuckee was the Garden of Eden, 
and that men were being justly punished with blood for 
their presumption. 

As if to crown that judgment, the day was dark 
and lowering, with showers of rain from time to time. 
And when we spoke, — Polly Ann and I, — it was 
in whispers. The trace was very narrow, with Daniel 
Boone’s blazes, two years old, upon the trees; but 
the way was not over steep. Cumberland Mountain 
was as silent and deserted as when the first man had 
known it. 

Alas, for the vanity of human presage! We gained 
the top, and entered unmolested. No Eden suddenly 
dazzled our eye, no splendor burst upon it. Nothing 
told us, as we halted in our weariness, that we had 
reached the Promised Land. The mists weighed heavily 
on the evergreens of the slopes and hid the ridges, and 
we passed that night in cold discomfort. It was the 
first of many without a fire. 

The next day brought us to the Cumberland, tawny 
and swollen from the rains, and here we had to stop to 
fell trees to make a raft on which to ferry over our 
packs. We bound the logs together with grapevines, 
and as we worked my imagination painted for me many 
a red face peering from the bushes on the farther shore. 
And when we got into the river and were caught and 
spun by the hurrying stream, I hearkened for a shot 
from the farther bank. While Polly Ann and I were 
scrambling to get the raft landed, Tom and Weldon 
swam over with the horses. And so we lay the second 
night dolefully in the rain. But not so much as a whim¬ 
per escaped from Polly Ann. I have often told her 


ON THE WILDERNESS TRAIL 


47 


since that the sorest trial she had was the guard she 
kept on her tongue, — a hardship indeed for one of 
Irish inheritance. Many a pull had she lightened for 
us by a flash of humor. 

The next morning the sun relented, and the wine of 
his dawn was wine indeed to our flagging hopes. Going 
down to wash at the river’s brink, I heard a movement 
in the cane, and stood frozen and staring until a great, 
bearded head, black as tar, was thrust out between the 
stalks and looked at me with blinking red eyes. The 
next step revealed the hump of the beast, and the next 
his tasselled tail lashing his dirty brown quarters. I 
did not tarry longer, but ran to tell Tom. He made 
bold to risk a shot and light a fire, and thus we had 
buffalo meat for some days after. 

We were still in the mountains. The trail led down 
the river for a bit through the worst of canebrakes, and 
every now and again we stopped while Tom and Weldon 
scouted. Once the roan mare made a dash through 
the brake, and, though Polly Ann burst through one 
way to head her off and I another, we reached the bank 
of Richland Creek in time to see her nose and the top 
of her pack above the brown water. There was nothing 
for it but to swim after her, which I did, and caught her 
quietly feeding in the cane on the other side. By great 
good fortune the other horse bore the powder. 

“Drat you, Nancy,” said Polly Ann to the mare, as 
she handed me my clothes, “I’d sooner carry the pack 
myself than be bothered with you.” 

“Hush,” said I, “the redskins will get us.” 

Polly Ann regarded me scornfully as I stood be¬ 
draggled before her. 


4 8 


THE PIONEER SPIRIT 


“Redskins!” she cried. “Nonsense! I reckon it’s 
all talk about redskins.” 

But we had scarce caught up ere we saw Tom stand¬ 
ing rigid with his hand raised. Before him, on a mound 
bared of cane, were the charred remains of a fire. The 
sight of them transformed Weldon. His eyes glared 
again, even as when we had first seen him, curses es¬ 
caped under his breath, and he would have darted into 
the cane had not Tom seized him sternly by the shoul¬ 
der. As for me, my heart hammered against my ribs, 
and I grew sick with listening. It was at that instant 
that my admiration for Tom McChesney burst bounds, 
and that I got some real inkling of what woodcraft 
might be. Stepping silently between the tree trunks, 
his eyes bent on the leafy loam, he found a footprint 
here and another there, and suddenly he went into the 
cane with a sign to us to remain. It seemed an age be¬ 
fore he returned. Then he began to rake the ashes, 
and, suddenly bending down, seized something in them, 
— the broken bowl of an Indian pipe. 

“Shawnees!” he said; “I reckoned so.” It was at 
length the beseeching in Polly Ann’s eyes that he an¬ 
swered. 

“A war party — tracks three days old. They took 
poplar.” 

To take poplar was our backwoods expression for 
embarking in a canoe, the dugouts being fashioned 
from the great poplar trees. 

I did not reflect then, as I have since and often, how 
great was the knowledge and resource Tom practised 
that day. Our feeling for him (Polly Ann’s and mine) 
fell little short of worship. In company ill at ease, in 


ON THE WILDERNESS TRAIL 


49 


the forest he became silent and masterful — an un¬ 
erring woodsman, capable of meeting the Indian on his 
own footing. And, strangest thought of all, he and 
many I could name who went into Kentucky, had es¬ 
caped, by a kind of strange fate, being born in the north 
of Ireland. This was so of Andrew Jackson himself. 

The rest of the day he led us in silence down the 
trace, his eye alert to penetrate every corner of the 
forest, his hand near the trigger of his long Deckard. I 
followed in boylike imitation, searching every thicket 
for alien form and color, and yearning for stature and 
responsibility. As for poor Weldon, he would stride for 
hours at a time with eyes fixed ahead, a wild figure, — 
ragged and fringed. And we knew that the soul within 
him was torn with thoughts of his dead wife and of his 
child in captivity. Again, when the trance left him, he 
was an addition to our little party not to be despised. 

At dark Polly Ann and I carried the packs across a 
creek on a fallen tree, she taking one end and I the 
other. We camped there, where the loam was trampled 
and torn by countless herds of bison, and had only 
parched corn and the remains of a buffalo steak for 
supper, as the meal was mouldy from its wetting, and 
running low. When Weldon had gone a little distance 
up the creek to scout, Tom relented from the sternness 
which his vigilance imposed and came and sat down on 
a log beside Polly Ann and me. 

“ ’Tis a hard journey, little girl/’ he said, patting 
her; “I reckon I done wrong to fetch you.” 

I can see him now, as the twilight settled down over 
the wilderness, his honest face red and freckled, but 
aglow with the tenderness it had hidden during the 


5o 


THE PIONEER SPIRIT 


day, one big hand enfolding hers, and the other on my 
shoulder. 

“Hark, Davy!” said Polly Ann, “he’s fair tired of us 
already. Davy, take me back.” 

“Hush, Polly Ann,” he answered, delighted at her 
raillery. “But I’ve a word to say to you. If we come 
on to the redskins, you and Davy make for the cane as 
hard as you kin kilter. Keep out of sight.” 

“As hard as we kin kilter!” exclaimed Polly Ann, 
indignantly. “I reckon not, Tom McChesney. Davy 
taught me to shoot long ago, afore you made up your 
mind to come back from Kaintuckee.” 

Tom chuckled. “So Davy taught you to shoot,” 
he said, and checked himself. “He ain’t such a bad 
one with a pistol,” — and he patted me, — “but I 
allow ye’d better hunt kiver just the same. And if 
they ketch ye, Polly Ann, just you go along and pre¬ 
tend to be happy, and tear off a snatch of your dress 
now and then, if you get a chance. It wouldn’t take 
me but a little time to run into Harrodstown or Boone’s 
Station from here, and fetch a party to follow ye.” 

Two days went by, — two days of strain in sunlight, 
and of watching and fitful sleep in darkness. But the 
Wilderness Trail was deserted. Here and there a lean- 
to — silent remnant of the year gone by —spoke of the 
little bands of emigrants which had once made their way 
so cheerfully to the new country. Again it was a child’s 
doll, the rags of it beaten by the weather to a rusty hue. 
Every hour that we progressed seemed to justify the 
sagacity and boldness of Tom’s plan, nor did it appear 
to have entered a painted skull that a white man would 
have the hardihood to try the trail this year. There 


ON THE WILDERNESS TRAIL 


51 


were neither signs nor sounds save Nature’s own, the 
hoot of the wood-owl, the distant bark of a mountain 
wolf, the whir of a partridge as she left her brood. 
At length we could stand no more the repression that 
silence and watching put upon us, and when a rotten 
bank gave way and flung Polly Ann and the sorrel mare 
into a creek, even Weldon smiled as we pulled her, be¬ 
draggled and laughing, from the muddy water. This 
was after we had ferried the Rockcastle River. 

Our trace rose and fell over height and valley, until 
we knew that we were come to a wonderland at last. 
We stood one evening on a spur as the setting sun 
flooded the natural park below us with a crystal light 
and, striking a tall sycamore, turned its green to gold. 
We were now on the hills whence the water ran down 
to nourish the fat land, and I could scarce believe that 
the garden spot on which our eyes feasted could be the 
scene of the blood and suffering of which we had heard. 
Here at last was the fairyland of my childhood, the coun¬ 
try beyond the Blue Wall. 

We went down the river that led into it, with awe, 
as though we were trespassers against God Himself, — as 
though He had made it too beautiful and too fruitful 
for the toilers of this earth. And you who read this 
an hundred years hence may not believe the marvels 
of it to the pioneer, and in particular to one born and 
bred in the scanty, hard soil of the mountains. Nature 
had made it for her park, — ay, and scented it with her 
own perfumes. Giant trees, which had watched genera¬ 
tions come and go, some of which mayhap had been sap¬ 
lings when the Norman came to England, grew in groves, 
— the gnarled and twisted oak, and that godsend to the 


52 


THE PIONEER SPIRIT 


settlers, the sugar-maple; the coffee tree with its droop¬ 
ing buds; the mulberry, the cherry, and the plum; the 
sassafras and the pawpaw; the poplar and the syca¬ 
more, slender maidens of the forest, garbed in daintier 
colors, — ay, and that resplendent brunette with the 
white flowers, the magnolia; and all underneath, in the 
green shade, enamelled banks which the birds them¬ 
selves sought to rival. 

At length, one afternoon, we came to the grove of wild 
apple trees so lovingly spoken of by emigrants as the 
Crab Orchard, and where formerly they had delighted 
to linger. The plain near by was flecked with the brown 
backs of feeding buffalo, but we dared not stop, and 
pressed on to find a camp in the forest. As we walked 
in the filtered sunlight we had a great fright, Polly Ann 
and I. Shrill, discordant cries suddenly burst from 
the branches above us, and a flock of strange, green birds 
flecked with red flew over our heads. Even Tom, intent 
upon the trail, turned and laughed at Polly Ann as she 
stood clutching me. 

“Shucks,” said he, “they’re only paroquets.” 

We made our camp in a little dell where there was 
short green grass by the brookside and steep banks over¬ 
grown with brambles on either hand. Tom knew the 
place, and declared that we were within thirty miles 
of the station. A giant oak had blown down across 
the water, and, cutting out a few branches of this, we 
spread our blankets under it on the turf. Tethering 
our faithful beasts, and cutting a quantity of pea-vine 
for their night’s food, we lay down to sleep, Tom taking 
the first watch. 

I had the second, for Tom trusted me now, and glory- 


ON THE WILDERNESS TRAIL 


53 


ing in that trust I was alert and vigilant. A shy moon 
peeped at me between the trees, and was fantastically 
reflected in the water. The creek rippled over the lime¬ 
stone, and an elk screamed in the forest far beyond. 
When at length I had called Weldon to take the third 
watch, I lay down with a sense of peace, soothed by the 
sweet odors of the night. 

I awoke suddenly. I had been dreaming of Nick 
Temple and Temple Bow, and my father coming back 
to me there with a great gash in his shoulder like Wel¬ 
don’s. I lay for a moment dazed by the transition, 
staring through the gray light. Then I sat up, the soft 
stamping" and snorting of the horses in my ears. The 
sorrel mare had her nose high, her tail twitching, but 
there was no other sound in the leafy wilderness. With 
a bound of returning sense I looked for Weldon. He 
had fallen asleep on the bank above, his body dropped 
across the trunk of the oak. I leaped on the trunk and 
made my way along it, stepping over him, until I 
reached and hid myself in the great roots of the tree 
on the bank above. The cold shiver of the dawn was 
in my body as I waited and listened. Should I wake 
Tom? The vast forest was silent, and yet in its shad¬ 
owy depths my imagination drew moving forms. I 
hesitated. 

The light grew: the boles of the trees came out, one 
by one, through the purple. The tangled mass down 
the creek took on a shade of green, and a faint breath 
came from the southward. The sorrel mare sniffed it, 
and stamped. Then silence again, — a long silence. 
Could it be that the cane moved in the thicket? Or 
had my eyes deceived me? I stared so hard that it 


54 


THE PIONEER SPIRIT 


seemed to rustle all over. Perhaps some deer were 
feeding there, for it was no unusual thing, when we rose 
in the morning, to hear the whistle of a startled doe 
near our camping ground. I was thoroughly frightened 
now, — and yet I had the speculative Scotch mind. 
The thicket was some one hundred and fifty yards above, 
and on the flooded lands at a bend. If there were In¬ 
dians in it, they could not see the sleeping forms of our 
party under me because of a bend in the stream. They 
might have seen me, though I had kept very still in 
the twisted roots of the oak, and now I was cramped. 
If Indians were there, they could determine our posi¬ 
tion well enough by the occasional stamping and 
snorting of the horses. And this made my fear more 
probable, for I had heard that horses and cattle often 
warned pioneers of the presence of redskins. 

Another thing: if they were a small party, they would 
probably seek to surprise us by coming out of the cane 
into the creek bed above the bend, and stalk down the 
creek. If a large band, they would surround and over¬ 
power us. I drew the conclusion that it must be a small 
party — if a party at all. And I would have given a 
shot in the arm to be able to see over the banks of the 
creek. Finally I decided to awake Tom. 

It was no easy matter to get down to where he was 
without being seen by eyes in the cane. I clung to the 
under branches of the oak, finally reached the shelving 
bank, and slid down slowly. I touched him on the 
shoulder. He awoke with a start, and by instinct seized 
the rifle lying beside him. 

“What is it, Davy?” he whispered. 

I told what had happened and my surmise. He 


ON THE WILDERNESS TRAIL 


55 


glanced then at the restless horses and nodded, pointing 
up at the sleeping figure of Weldon, in full sight on the 
log. The Indians must have seen him. 

Tom picked up the spare rifle. 

“Davy,” said he, “you stay here beside Polly Ann, 
behind the oak. You kin shoot with a rest; but don’t 
shoot,” said he, earnestly, “for God’s sake don’t shoot 
unless you’re sure to kill.” 

I nodded. For a moment he looked at the face of 
Polly Ann, sleeping peacefully, and the fierce light faded 
from his eyes. He brushed her on the cheek and she 
awoke and smiled at him, trustfully, lovingly. He put 
his finger to his lips. 

“Stay with Davy,” he said. Turning to me, he 
added: “When you wake Weldon, wake him easy. So.” 
He put his hand in mine, and gradually tightened it. 
“Wake him that way, and he won’t jump.” 

Polly Ann asked no questions. She looked at Tom, 
and her soul was in her face. She seized the pistol from 
the blanket. Then we watched him creeping down the 
creek on his belly, close to the bank. Next we moved 
behind the fallen tree, and I put my hand in Weldon’s. 
He woke with a sigh, started, but we drew him down be¬ 
hind the log. Presently he climbed cautiously up the 
bank and took station in the muddy roots of the tree. 
Then we waited, watching Tom with a prayer in our 
hearts. Those who have not felt it know not the fear¬ 
fulness of waiting for an Indian attack. 

At last Tom reached the bend in the bank, beside 
some red-bud bushes, and there he stayed. A level 
shaft of light shot through the forest. The birds, twit¬ 
tering awoke. A great hawk soared high in the blue 


THE PIONEER SPIRIT 


56 

over our heads. An hour passed. I had sighted the 
rifle among the yellow leaves of the fallen oak an hun¬ 
dred times. But Polly Ann looked not once to the right 
or left. Her eyes and her prayers followed the form of 
her husband. 

Then, like the cracking of a great drover’s whip, a 
shot rang out in the stillness, and my hands tightened 
over the rifle-stock. A piece of bark struck me in the 
face, and a dead leaf fluttered to the ground. Almost 
instantly there was another shot, and a blue wisp of 
smoke rose from the red-bud bushes, where Tom was. 
The horses whinnied, there was a rustle in the cane, and 
silence. Weldon bent over. 

“My God!” he whispered hoarsely, “he hit one. Tom 
hit one.” 

I felt Polly Ann’s hand on my face. 

“Davy dear,” she said, “are ye hurt?” 

“No,” said I, dazed, and wondering why Weldon had 
not been shot long ago as he slumbered. I was burning 
to climb the bank and ask him whether he had seen the 
Indian fall. 

Again there was silence, — a silence even more awful 
than before. The sun crept higher, the magic of his 
rays turning the creek from black to crystal, and the 
birds began to sing again. And still there was no sign 
of the treacherous enemy that lurked about us. Could 
Tom get back? I glanced at Polly Ann. The same 
question was written in her yearning eyes, staring at the 
spot where the gray of his hunting shirt showed through 
the bushes at the bend. Suddenly her hand tightened 
on mine. The hunting shirt was gone! 

After that, in the intervals when my terror left me, I 


ON THE WILDERNESS TRAIL 


57 


tried to speculate upon the plan of the savages. Their 
own numbers could not be great, and yet they must have 
known from our trace how few we were. Scanning 
the ground, I noted that the forest was fairly clean of 
under-growth on both sides of us. Below, the stream 
ran straight, but there were growths of cane and briers. 
Looking up, I saw Weldon faced about. It was the 
obvious move. 

But where had Tom gone? 

Next my eye was caught by a little run fringed with 
bushes that curved around the cane near the bend. I 
traced its course, unconsciously, bit by bit, until it 
reached the edge of a bank not fifty feet away. 

All at once my breath left me. Through the tangle 
of bramble stems at the mouth of the run, above naked 
brown shoulders there glared at me, hideously streaked 
with red, a face. Had my fancy lied? I stared again 
until my eyes were blurred, now tortured by doubt, 
now so completely convinced that my fingers almost 
released the trigger, — for I had thrown the sights into 
line over the tree. I know not to this day whether I 
shot from determination or nervousness. My shoulder 
bruised by the kick, the smoke like a veil before my face, 
it was some moments ere I knew that the air was full of 
whistling bullets; and then the gun was torn from my 
hands, and I saw Polly Ann ramming in a new charge. 

“The pistol, Davy,” she cried. 

One torture was over, another on. Crack after crack 
sounded from the forest — from here and there and 
everywhere, it seemed — and with a song that like a 
hurtling insect ran the scale of notes, the bullets buried 
themselves in the trunk of our oak with a chug. Once 


THE PIONEER SPIRIT 


58 

in a while I heard Weldon’s answering shot, but I 
remembered my promise to Tom not to waste powder 
unless I were sure. The agony was the breathing space 
we had while they crept nearer. Then we thought of 
Tom, and I dared not glance at Polly Ann for fear that 
the sight of her face would unnerve me. 

Then a longing to kill seized me, a longing so strange 
and fierce that I could scarce be still. I know now that 
it comes in battle to all men, and with intensity to the 
hunted, and it explained to me more clearly what fol¬ 
lowed. I fairly prayed for the sight of a painted form, 
and time after time my fancy tricked me into the notion 
that I had one. And even as I searched the brambles 
at the top of the run a puff of smoke rose out of them, 
a bullet burying itself in the roots near Weldon, who 
fired in return. I say that I have some notion of what 
possessed the man, for he was crazed with passion at 
fighting the race which had so cruelly wronged him. 
Horror-struck, I saw him swing down from the bank, 
splash through the water with raised tomahawk, and 
gain the top of the run. In less time than it takes me 
to write these words he had dragged a hideous, naked 
warrior out of the brambles, and with an avalanche of 
crumbling earth they slid into the waters of the creek. 
Polly Ann and I stared transfixed at the fearful fight 
that followed, nor can I give any adequate description 
of it. Weldon had struck through the brambles, but 
the savage had taken the blow on his gun-barrel and 
broken the handle of the tomahawk, and it was man to 
man as they rolled in the shallow water, locked in a 
death embrace. Neither might reach for his knife, 
neither was able to hold the other down, Weldon’s 


ON THE WILDERNESS TRAIL 


59 


curses surcharged with hatred, the Indian straining si¬ 
lently save for a gasp or a guttural note, the white a 
bearded madman, the savage a devil with a glistening, 
paint-streaked body, his features now agonized as his 
muscles strained and cracked, now lighted with a dia¬ 
bolical joy. But the pent-up rage of months gave the 
white man strength. 

Polly Ann and I were powerless for fear of shooting 
Weldon, and gazed absorbed at the fiendish scene with 
eyes not to be withdrawn. The tree-trunk shook. A 
long, bronze arm reached out from above, and a painted 
face glowered at us from the very roots where Weldon 
had lain. That moment I took to be my last, and in it 
I seemed to taste all eternity. I heard but faintly a 
noise beyond. It was the shock of the heavy Indian 
falling on Polly Ann and me as we cowered under the 
trunk, and even then there was an instant that we stood 
gazing at him as at a worm writhing in the clay. It 
was she who fired the pistol and made the great hole in 
his head, and so he twitched and died. After that a 
confusion of shots, war-whoops, a vision of two naked 
forms flying from tree to tree towards the cane, and 
then — God be praised — Tom’s voice shouting: — 

“Polly Ann! Polly Ann!” 

Before she had reached the top of the bank Tom had 
her in his arms, and a dozen tall gray figures leaped the 
six feet into the stream and stopped. My own eyes 
turned with theirs to see the body of poor Weldon lying 
face downward in the water. But beyond it a tragedy 
awaited me. Defiant, immovable, save for the heaving 
of his naked chest, the savage who had killed him stood 
erect with folded arms facing us. The smoke cleared 


6o 


THE PIONEER SPIRIT 


away from a gleaming rifle-barrel, and the brave stag¬ 
gered and fell and died as silent as he stood, his feathers 
making ripples in the stream. It was cold-blooded, if 
you like, but war in those days was to the death, and 
knew no mercy. The tall backwoodsman who had shot 
him waded across the stream, and in the twinkling of an 
eye seized the scalp-lock and ran it round with his knife, 
holding up the bleeding trophy with a shout. Stagger¬ 
ing to my feet, I stretched myself, but I had been 
cramped so long that I tottered and would have fallen 
had not Tom’s hand steadied me. 

“Davy!” he cried. “Thank God, little Davy! the 
varmints didn’t get ye.” 

“And you, Tom?” I answered, looking up at him, 
bewildered with happiness. 

“They was nearer than I suspicioned when I went off,” 
he said, and looked at me curiously. “Drat the little 
deevil,” he said affectionately, and his voice trembled, 
“he took care of Polly Ann, I’ll warrant.” 

He carried me to the top of the bank, where we were 
surrounded by the whole band of backwoodsmen. 

“That he did!” cried Polly Ann, “and fetched a red¬ 
skin yonder as clean as you could have done it, Tom.” 

“The little deevil!” exclaimed Tom again. 

I looked up, burning with this praise from Tom (for I 
had never thought of praise nor of anything save his hap¬ 
piness and Polly Ann’s). I looked up, and my eyes 
were caught and held with a strange fascination by fear¬ 
less blue ones that gazed down into them. I give you 
but a poor description of the owner of these blue eyes, 
for personal magnetism springs not from one feature or 
another. He was a young man, — perhaps five and 


ON THE WILDERNESS TRAIL 


61 


twenty as I now know age, — woodsman-clad, square- 
built, sun-reddened. His hair might have been orange 
in one light and sand-colored in another. With a boy’s 
sense of such things I knew that the other woodsmen 
were waiting for him to speak, for they glanced in at him 
expectantly. 

“You had a near call, McChesney,” said he, at length; 
“fortunate for you we were after this band, — shot some 
of it to pieces yesterday morning.” He paused, looking 
at Tom with that quality of tribute which comes natu¬ 
rally to a leader of men. “By God,” he said, “I didn’t 
think you’d try it.” 

“My word is good, Colonel Clark,” answered Tom, 
simply. 

Young Colonel Clark glanced at the lithe figure of 
Polly Ann. He seemed a man of few words, for he did 
not add to his praise of Tom’s achievement by compli¬ 
menting her as Captain Sevier had done. In fact, he 
said nothing more, but leaped down the bank and strode 
into the water where the. body of Weldon lay, and 
dragged it out himself. We gathered around it silently, 
and two great tears rolled down Polly Ann’s cheeks as 
she parted the hair with tenderness and loosened the 
clenched hands. Nor did any of the tall woodsmen 
speak. Poor Weldon! The tragedy of his life and 
death was the tragedy of Kentucky herself. They buried 
him by the waterside, where he had fallen. 

But there was little time for mourning on the border. 
The burial finished, the Kentuckians splashed across the 
creek, and one of them, stooping with a shout at the 
mouth of the run, lifted out of the brambles a painted 
body with drooping head and feathers trailing. 


62 


THE PIONEER SPIRIT 


“Ay, Mac,” he cried, “here’s a sculp for ye.” 

“It’s Davy’s,” exclaimed Polly Ann from the top of 
the bank; “Davy shot that one.” 

“Hooray for Davy,” cried a huge, strapping back¬ 
woodsman who stood beside her, and the others laugh¬ 
ingly took up the shout. “Hooray for Davy. Bring 
him over, Cowan.” The giant threw me on his shoulder 
as though I had been a fox, leaped down, and took the 
stream in two strides. I little thought how often he 
was to carry me in days to come, but I felt a great awe 
at the strength of him, as I stared into his rough fea¬ 
tures and his veined and weathered skin. He stood me 
down beside the Indian’s body, smiled as he whipped 
my hunting knife from my belt, and said, “Now, Davy, 
take the sculp.” 

Nothing loath, I seized the Indian by the long scalp- 
lock, while my big friend guided my hand, and amid 
laughter and cheers I cut off my first trophy of war. 
Nor did I have any other feeling than fierce hatred of 
the race which had killed my father. 

Those who have known armies in their discipline will 
find it difficult to understand the leadership of the 
border. Such leadership was granted only to those whose 
force and individuality compelled men to obey them. 
I had my first glimpse of it that day. This Colonel 
Clark to whom Tom delivered Mr. Robertson’s letter 
was perchance the youngest man in the company that 
had rescued us, saving only a slim lad of seventeen 
whom I noticed and envied, and whose name was 
James Ray. Colonel Clark so I was told by my friend 
Cowan, held that title in Kentucky by reason of his 
prowess. 


ON THE WILDERNESS TRAIL 


63 


Clark had been standing quietly on the bank while I 
had scalped my first redskin. Then he called Tom 
McChesney to him and questioned him closely about our 
journey, the signs we had seen, and, finally, the news 
in the Watauga settlements. While this was going on 
the others gathered round them. 

“What now?” asked Cowan, when he had finished. 

“Back to Harrodstown,” answered the Colonel, shortly. 

There was a brief silence, followed by a hoarse mur¬ 
mur from a thick-set man at the edge of the crowd, who 
shouldered his way to the centre of it. 

“We set out to hunt a fight, and my pluck is to clean 
up. We ain’t finished ’em yet.” 

The man had a deep, coarse voice that was a piece 
with his roughness. 

“I reckon this band ain’t a-goin’ to harry the station 
any more, McGary,” cried Cowan. 

“By Job, what did we come out for? Who’ll take the 
trail with me?” 

There were some who answered him, and straightway 
they began to quarrel among themselves, filling the 
woods with a babel of voices. While I stood listening to 
these disputes with a boy’s awe of a man’s quarrel, what 
was my astonishment to feel a hand on my shoulder. It 
was Colonel Clark’s, and he was not paying the least 
attention to the dispute. 

“Davy,” said he, “you look as if you could make a fire.” 

“Yes, sir,” I answered, gasping. 

“Well,” said he, “make one.” 

I lighted a piece of punk with the flint, and, wrapping 
it up in some dry brush, soon had a blaze started. 
Looking up, I caught his eye on me again. 


6 4 


THE PIONEER SPIRIT 


“Mrs. McChesney,” said Colonel Clark to Polly Ann, 
“you look as if you could make johnny-cake. Have you 
any meal? ” 

“That I have,” cried Polly Ann, “though it’s fair 
mouldy. Davy, run and fetch it.” 

I ran to the pack on the sorrel mare. When I re¬ 
turned Mr. Clark said: — 

“That seems a handy boy, Mrs. McChesney.” 

“Handy!” cried Polly Ann, “I reckon he’s more than 
handy. Didn’t he save my life twice on our way out 
here?” 

“And how was that?” said the Colonel. 

“Run and fetch some water, Davy,” said Polly Ann, 
and straightway launched forth into a vivid description 
of my exploits, as she mixed the meal. Nay, she went so 
far as to tell how she came by me. The young Colonel 
listened gravely, though with a gleam now and then in 
his blue eyes. Leaning on his long rifle, he paid no 
manner of attention to the angry voices near by, — which 
conduct to me was little short of the marvellous. 

“Now, Davy,” said he, at length, “the rest of your 
history.” 

“There is little of it, sir,” I answered. “I was born 
in the Yadkin country, lived alone with my father, who 
was a Scotchman. He hated a man named Cameron, 
took me to Charlestown, and left me with some kin of 
his who had a place called Temple Bow, and went off 
to fight Cameron and the Cherokees.” There I gulped. 
“He was killed at Cherokee Ford, and — and I ran away 
from Temple Bow, and found Polly Ann.” 

This time I caught something of surprise on the Colo¬ 
nel’s face. 


ON THE WILDERNESS TRAIL 65 

“By thunder, Davy,” said he, “but you have a clean 
gift for brief narrative. Where did you learn it?” 

“My father was a gentleman once, and taught me to 
speak and read,” I answered, as I brought a flat piece of 
limestone for Polly Ann’s baking. 

“And what would you like best to be when you grow 
up, Davy?” he asked. 

“Six feet,” said I, so promptly that he laughed. 

“Faith,” said Polly Ann, looking at me comically, “he 
may be many things, but I’ll warrant he’ll never be that.” 

I have often thought since that young Mr. Clark 
showed much of the wisdom of the famous king of Israel 
on that day. Polly Ann cooked a piece of a deer which 
one of the woodsmen had with him, and the quarrel 
died by itself when we sat down to this and the johnny- 
cake. By noon we had taken up the trace for Harrods- 
town, marching with scouts ahead and behind. Mr. 
Clark walked mostly alone, seemingly wrapped in 
thought. At times he had short talks with different 
men, oftenest — I noted with pride — with Tom Mc- 
Chesney. And more than once when he halted he called 
me to him, my answers to his questions seeming to amuse 
him. Indeed, I became a kind of pet with the back¬ 
woodsmen, Cowan often flinging me to his shoulder as 
he swung along. The pack was taken from the sorrel 
mare and divided among the party, and Polly Ann made 
to ride that we might move the faster. 

It must have been the next afternoon, about four, that 
the rough stockade of Harrodstown greeted our eyes as 
we stole cautiously to the edge of the forest. And the 
sight of no roofs and spires could have been more wel¬ 
come than that of these logs and cabins, broiling in the 


66 


THE PIONEER SPIRIT 


midsummer sun. At a little distance from the fort, a 
silent testimony of siege, the stumpy, cleared fields were 
overgrown with weeds, tall and rank, the corn choked. 
Nearer the stockade, where the keepers of the fort might 
venture out at times, a more orderly growth met the 
eye. It was young James Ray whom Colonel Clark sin¬ 
gled to creep with our message to the gates. At six, 
when the smoke was rising from the stone chimneys 
behind the palisades, Ray came back to say that all 
was well. Then we went forward quickly, hands waved 
a welcome above the logs, the great wooden gates swung 
open, and at last we had reached the haven for which 
we had suffered so much. Mangy dogs barked at our 
feet, men and women ran forward joyfully to seize our 
hands and greet us. 

And so we came to Kaintuckee. 

Notes and Study Helps 

The selection “ On the Wilderness Trail ” is taken from Winston 
Churchill’s book, The Crossing, which pictures in graphic style the 
great westward movement of the American people. No history is 
more interesting than that of the early pioneers who swept over the 
“ Blue Wall ” into Kentucky and Tennessee. The selection given 
here tells of the adventures of a small party of white people crossing 
the mountains into Kentucky. Tom McChesney, a bold backwoods¬ 
man, has left Harrodstown, a frontier post in Kentucky, to come east 
and marry his sweetheart, Polly Ann. Before leaving Harrodstown 
he gave his word to Colonel George Rogers Clark that he would re¬ 
turn. Despite the hardships of the trail and the danger of an Indian 
attack, Polly Ann insists on accompanying Tom back into Kentucky, 
taking with her David Ritchie, a young orphan boy whom she has 
befriended. On the way the party is joined by a man named Weldon, 
who has suffered the loss of his wife and children at the hands of the 
Indians, and is eager for revenge. The party is attacked by Indians, 
but is rescued by Clark and a band of men from Harrodstown. The 
story is told by David Ritchie. 


THE EXODUS FOR OREGON 67 

1* State some of the difficulties encountered by the early pioneers 
in crossing the Blue Ridge into Kentucky. 

2. Why was Kentucky called the Promised Land? 

3. Describe it as it appeared to David Ritchie and his party. 

4. Give an account of the Indian attack as related in this story. 

5. What was the Indian method of warfare? 

6. What kind of men were the backwoodsmen? 

7. Harrodstown was a typical frontier post. Describe it. 

8. How did the early settlers clear the ground and where did they 

plant their crops? 

9. Why did Clark’s party observe so much caution in approaching 

Harrodstown? 

10. Tell what you know of the work of Daniel Boone and George 
Rogers Clark. 


THE EXODUS FOR OREGON 1 

Joaquin Miller 

A tale half told and hardly understood; 

The talk of bearded men that chanced to meet, 

That leaned on long quaint rifles in the wood, 

That looked in fellow faces, spoke discreet 
And low, as half in doubt and in defeat 
Of hope; a tale it was of lands of gold 
That lay below the sun. Wild-winged and fleet 
It spread among the swift Missouri’s bold 
Unbridled men, and reached to where Ohio rolled. 

Then long chained lines of yoked and patient steers: 
Then long white trains that pointed to the west, 

Beyond the savage west; the hopes and fears 

1 From Joaquin Miller’s Poems (Bear Edition), Vol. II. Copy¬ 
right, 1909, by C. H. Miller. Published by Harr Wagner Publish¬ 
ing Company, San Francisco. Used by permission of the publishers. 



68 


THE PIONEER SPIRIT 


Of blunt, untutored men, who hardly guessed 
Their course; the brave and silent women, dressed 
In homely spun attire, the boys in bands, 

The cheery babes that laughed at all, and blessed 
The doubting hearts, with laughing, lifted hands! 

What exodus for far untraversed lands! 

The Plains! The shouting drivers at the wheel; 

The crash of leather whips; the crush and roll 
Of wheels; the groan of yokes and grinding steel 
And iron chain, and lo! at last the whole 
Vast line, that reached as if to touch the goal, 

Began to stretch and stream away and wind 
Toward the West, as if with one control; 

Then hope loomed fair, and home lay far behind; 

Before, the boundless plain, and fiercest of their kind. 

At first the way lay green and fresh as seas, 

And far away as any reach of wave; 

The sunny streams went by in belt of trees; 

And here and there the tassel’d tawny brave 

Swept by on horse, looked back, stretched forth and gave 

A yell of warn, and then did wheel and rein 

Awhile, and point away, dark-browed and grave, 

Into the far and dim and distant plain 

With signs and prophecies, and then plunged on again. 

Some hills at last began to lift and break; 

Some streams began to fail of wood and tide, 

The somber plain began betime to take 
A hue of weary brown, and wild and wide 
It stretched its naked breast on every side. 

A babe was heard at last to cry for bread 
Amid the deserts; cattle lowed and died, 

And dying men went by with broken tread, 

And left a long black serpent line of wreck and dead. 


THE EXODUS FOR OREGON 


69 


Strange hungered birds, black-winged and still as death, 
And crowned of red with hooked beaks, blew low 
And close about, till we could touch their breath — 
Strange unnamed birds, that seemed to come and go 
In circles now, and now direct and slow, 

Continual, yet never touch the earth; 

Slim foxes slid and shuttled to and fro 

At times across the dusty weary dearth 

Of life, looked back, then sank like crickets in a hearth. 

Then dust arose, a long dim line like smoke 

From out of riven earth. The wheels went groaning by 

Ten thousand feet in harness and in yoke, 

They tore the ways of ashen alkali, 

And desert winds blew sudden, swift and dry. 

The dust! it sat upon and filled the train! 

It seemed to fret and fill the very sky. 

Lo! dust upon the beasts, the tent, the plain, 

And dust, alas! on breasts that rose not up again. 

They sat in desolation and in dust 
By dried-up desert streams; the mother’s hands 
Hid all her bended face; the cattle thrust 
Their tongues and faintly called across the lands. 

The babes, that knew not what this way through sands 
Could mean, did ask if it would end today. 

The panting wolves slid by, red-eyed, in bands 
To pools beyond. The men looked far away, 

And, silent, saw that all a boundless desert lay. 

They rose by night; they struggled on and on 
As thin and still as ghosts; then here and there 
Beside the dusty way before the dawn, 

Men silent laid them down in their despair 
And died. But woman! Woman, frail as fair! 


70 


THE PIONEER SPIRIT 


May man have strength to give to you your due; 

You faltered not, nor murmured anywhere, 

You held your babes, held to your course, and you 
Bore on through burning hell your double burdens through. 

Men stood at last, the decimated few, 

Above a land of running streams, and they? 

They pushed aside the boughs, and peering through 
Beheld afar the cool refreshing bay; 

Then some did curse, and some bend hands to pray; 

But some looked back upon the desert, wide 
And desolate with death, then all the day 
They mourned. But one, with nothing left beside 
His dog to love, crept down among the ferns and died. 


Study Helps and Questions 

1. What tales did the explorers tell about the Oregon country? 

2. Where was the news spread? 

3. How did it affect the people? 

4. Who composed the bands of emigrants that set forth for Oregon 

and how did they travel? 

5. Describe the course of their journey and discuss some of their 

hardships. 

6. What birds and animals did they see? 

7. What does the poem tell of their sufferings in crossing the 

desert? 

8. What is meant by the expression “the decimated few ”? 

9. Describe the land as they first beheld it and tell how the sight 

affected them. 

10. Compare the Oregon country to-day with the land as the 
pioneers saw it. 


THE AMERICAN 


7 1 


THE AMERICAN 
J. Hector St. John de Crevecceur 

What then is the American, this new man? He is 
either an European or the descendant of an European, 
hence that strange mixture of blood, which you will find 
in no other country. I could point out to you a family 
whose grandfather was an Englishman, whose wife was 
Dutch, whose son married a French woman, and whose 
present four sons have now four wives of different na¬ 
tions. He is an American, who leaving behind him all 
his ancient prejudices and manners, receives new ones 
from the new mode of life he has embraced, the new 
government he obeys, and the new rank he holds. He 
becomes an American by being received in the broad 
lap of our great Alma Mater. 

Here individuals of all nations are melted into a new 
race of men, whose labors and posterity will one day 
cause great changes in the world. Americans are the 
western pilgrims, who are carrying along with them that 
great mass of arts, sciences, vigor, and industry which 
began long since in the East; they will finish the great 
circle. 

The Americans were once scattered all over 
Europe; here they are incorporated into one of the 
finest systems of population which has ever appeared, 
and which will hereafter become distinct by the power 
of the different climates they inhabit. The American 
ought therefore to love this country much better than 
that wherein either he or his forefathers were born. 

Here the rewards of his industry follow with equal 


72 


THE PIONEER SPIRIT 


steps the progress of his labor; his labor is founded on 
the basis of nature, self-interest; can it want a stronger 
allurement? Wives and children, who before in vain 
demanded of him a morsel of bread, now fat and frolic¬ 
some, gladly help their father to clear those fields whence 
exuberant crops are to arise to feed and to clothe them 
all, without any part being claimed, either by a despotic 
prince, a rich ruler, or a mighty lord. Here religion 
demands but little of him; a small voluntary salary to 
the minister, and gratitude to God; can he refuse these? 

The American is a new man, who acts upon new prin¬ 
ciples; he must therefore entertain new ideas, and form 
new opinions. From involuntary idleness, servile de¬ 
pendence, penury, and useless labor, he has passed to 
toils of a very different nature, rewarded by ample 
subsistence. — This is an American. 

Study Helps and Questions 

1. Why do Americans speak of Europe as “the mother country”? 

2. From what parts of Europe do most of our forefathers come? 

3. How can a foreign-born person become a citizen of our country? 

4. What are the results of the blending of races in America? 

5. Show why the foreigner is happier under our government than 

he is at home. 

6. State some of the duties of the “new American.” 


THE SONG OF HIAWATHA 


THE SONG OF HIAWATHA 
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 
The Peace-Pipe 

On the Mountains of the Prairie, 

On the great Red Pipe-stone Quarry, 
Gitche Manito, the mighty, 

He the Master of Life, descending, 

On the red crags of the quarry 
Stood erect, and called the nations, 
Called the tribes of men together. 

From his footprints flowed a river, 
Leaped into the light of morning, 

O’er the precipice plunging downward 
Gleamed like Ishkoodah, the comet. 
And the Spirit, stooping earthward, 
With his finger on the meadow 
Traced a winding pathway for it, 
Saying to it, “Run in this way!” 

From the red stone of the quarry 
With his hand he broke a fragment, 
Moulded it into a pipe-head, 

Shaped and fashioned it with figures; 
From the margin of the river 
Took a long reed for a pipe-stem, 
With its dark green leaves upon it; 
Filled the pipe with bark of willow, 
With the bark of the red willow; 
Breathed upon the neighboring forest, 
Made its great boughs chafe together, 
Till in flame they burst and kindled; 
And erect upon the mountains, 

Gitche Manito, the mighty, 


74 


THE PIONEER SPIRIT 


Smoked the calumet, the Peace-Pipe, 
As a signal to the nations. 

And the smoke rose slowly, slowly, 
Through the tranquil air of morning, 
First a single line of darkness, 

Then a denser, bluer vapor, 

Then a snow-white cloud unfolding, 
Like the tree-tops of the forest, 

Ever rising, rising, rising, 

Till it touched the top of heaven, 

Till it broke against the heaven, 

And rolled outward all around it. 

From the Vale of Tawasentha, 
From the Valley of Wyoming, 

From the groves of Tuscaloosa, 

From the far-off Rocky Mountains, 
From the Northern lakes and rivers, 
All the tribes beheld the signal, 

Saw the distant smoke ascending, 
The Pukwana of the Peace-Pipe. 

And the Prophets of the nations 
Said: “Behold it, the Pukwana! 

By this signal from afar off, 

Bending like a wand of willow, 
Waving like a hand that beckons, 
Gitche Manito, the mighty, 

Calls the tribes of men together, 
Calls the warriors to his council!” 

Down the rivers, o’er the prairies, 
Came the warriors of the nations, 
Came the Delawares and Mohawks, 
Came the Choctaws and Camanches, 
Came the Shoshonies and Blackfeet, 
Came the Pawnees and Omahas, 
Came the Mandans and Dacotahs, 


THE SONG OF HIAWATHA 


75 


Came the Hurons and Ojibways, 

All the warriors drawn together 
By the signal of the Peace-Pipe, 

To the Mountains of the Prairie, 

To the great Red Pipe-stone Quarry. 

And they stood there on the meadow, 
With their weapons and their war-gear, 
Painted like the leaves of Autumn, 
Painted like the sky of morning, 

Wildly glaring at each other; 

In their faces stern defiance, 

In their hearts the feuds of ages, 

The hereditary hatred, 

The ancestral thirst of vengeance. 

Gitche Manito, the mighty, 

The creator of the nations, 

Looked upon them with compassion, 

With paternal love and pity; 

Looked upon their wrath and wrangling 
But as quarrels among children, 

But as feuds and fights of children! 

Over them he stretched his right hand, 
To subdue their stubborn natures, 

To allay their thirst and fever, 

By the shadow of his right hand; 

Spake to them with voice majestic 
As the sound of far-off waters 
Falling into deep abysses, 

Warning, chiding, spake in this wise: — 

“O my children! my poor children! 
Listen to the words of wisdom, 

Listen to the words of warning, 

From the lips of the Great Spirit, 

From the Master of Life, who made you! 

“I have given you lands to hunt in, 


7 6 


THE PIONEER SPIRIT 


I have given you streams to fish in, 

I have given you bear and bison, 

I have given you roe and reindeer, 

I have given you brant and beaver, 

Filled the marshes full of wild-fowl, 

Filled the rivers full of fishes; 

Why then are you not contented? 

Why then will you hunt each other? 

“I am weary of your quarrels, 

Weary of your wars and bloodshed, 
Weary of your prayers for vengeance, 

Of your wranglings and dissensions; 

All your strength is in your union, 

All your danger is in discord; 

Therefore be at peace henceforward, 

And as brothers live together. 

“ I will send a Prophet to you, 

A Deliverer of the nations, 

Who shall guide you and shall teach you, 
Who shall toil and suffer with you. 

If you listen to his counsels, 

You will multiply and prosper; 

If his warnings pass unheeded, 

You will fade away and perish! 

“Bathe now in the stream before you, 
Wash the war-paint from your faces, 
Wash the blood-stains from your fingers, 
Bury your war-clubs and your weapons, 
Break the red stone from this quarry, 
Mould and make it into Peace-Pipes, 
Take the reeds that grow beside you, 
Deck them with your brightest feathers, 
Smoke the calumet together, 

And as brothers live henceforward!” 

Then upon the ground the warriors 


THE SONG OF HIAWATHA 


77 


Threw their cloaks and shirts of deer-skin-, 
Threw their weapons and their war-gear, 
Leaped into the rushing river, 

Washed the war-paint from their faces. 
Clear above them flowed the water, 

Clear and limpid from the footprints 
Of the Master of Life descending; 

Dark below them flowed the water, 

Soiled and stained with streaks of crimson, 
As if blood were mingled with it! 

From the river came the warriors, 

Clean and washed from all their war-paint; 
On the banks their clubs they buried, 
Buried all their warlike weapons. 

Gitche Manito, the mighty, 

The Great Spirit, the creator, 

Smiled upon his helpless children! 

And in silence all the warriors 
Broke the red stone of the quarry, 
Smoothed and formed it into Peace-Pipes, 
Broke the long reeds by the river, 

Decked them with their brightest feathers, 
And departed each one homeward, 

While the Master of .Life, ascending, 
Through the opening of cloud-curtains, 
Through the doorways of the heaven, 
Vanished from before their faces, 

In the smoke that rolled around him, 

The Pukwana of the Peace-Pipe! 


Study Helps and Questions 

“The Song of Hiawatha” is based mainly on Indian legends gathered 
by Mr. Schoolcraft, to whom the literary world is indebted for pre¬ 
serving much of the Indian folk-lore. Hiawatha is a mythical char¬ 
acter of miraculous birth, who was sent among the Indians to teach 


THE PIONEER SPIRIT 


78 

the arts of peace. He was called by various names among the dif¬ 
ferent nations. The scenes of the poem are laid among the Ojibways 
around Lake Superior. 

According to tradition, the Great Spirit at an ancient period called 
all the Indian nations together, and standing on a great rock of red 
pipe-stone he broke off a bit of the stone and fashioned it into a pipe. 
This he smoked over the assembled tribes, blowing the smoke to the 
East, the West, the North, and the South. He told them that they 
must use this pipe-stone, red like their own blood, for their peace pipes, 
and that henceforth they must never raise their weapons on its ground. 
The Great Spirit then disappeared in a cloud of smoke, but the Red 
Pipe-stone Quarry was regarded as a region of peace and was always 
held sacred by the Indians. 

1. Who was Gitche Manito? 

2. Where did he stand? Describe his actions. 

3. How did he call the Indian nations together? Name some of 

the nations that came. How were they dressed? What were 
their feelings toward each other? 

4. How did the Great Spirit regard them? How did he subdue 

their hatred for one another? What speech did he make to 
them? 

5. Whom did he promise to send to them as a teacher? To whom 

may this prophet be compared in the Christian Bible? 

6. Tell how the warriors received the words of the Great Spirit and 

what they did. 

7. Tell how the Great Spirit departed. 

8. What lessons might warlike nations of the present day learn 

from the counsels of the Great Spirit? 


FREEDOM AND DEMOCRACY 


We hold these truths to be self-evident: — that all men are created 
equal; that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalien¬ 
able rights; that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of hap¬ 
piness; that, to secure these rights, governments are instituted among 
men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed; 
that, whenever any form of government becomes destructive of 
these ends, it is the right of the people to alter or to abolish it, and 
to institute a new government, laying its foundation on such prin¬ 
ciples, and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem 
most likely to effect their safety and happiness. — Declaration of 
Independence. 


FREEDOM AND DEMOCRACY 


Foreword 

“To none will we sell or deny or delay right or justice ” 

These are the words of the famous Great Charter which set forth 
in no uncertain terms the rights of Englishmen. They are words 
which breathe forth a spirit of freedom and democracy which was 
not new to the world. Centuries before the brave barons wrested 
the Great Charter from the tyrranical King John, their forefathers 
in the forests of northern Europe gathered in the wilderness and 
clashed upon their shields and shouted their approval or disapproval 
of the laws of their tribes. 

The same spirit of freedom flares forth among the early Greeks, 
and again we find among the early Romans in the clash between 
patrician and plebeian the primitive desire of man to be “free and 
equal.” It was this democratic spirit which pulled down the mighty 
Caesar at the foot of Pompey’s statue. It thundered forth as truly 
in the address of Rienzi to the Romans as it did in later years in the 
glowing words of our own Patrick Henry. Again and again in the 
history of the world has the love of freedom put the sword into 
the hands of man, to fight for his God-given rights. 

A few hundred years after the signing of the Magna Carta , the 
descendants of those same Englishmen stated in clear and forceful 
words in our great Declaration of Independence that “all men are 
created free and equal, with certain unalienable rights.” Our Ameri¬ 
can forefathers took up the sword to prove these rights to the foreign- 
born king of England, fighting autocracy with the sympathy of their 
English brothers as effectually in the days of the American Revolu¬ 
tion as their descendants to-day fought Prussian autocracy side by 
side in the recent World War. 

The spirit of freedom in distorted forms and in false ideals speaks 
in riot and bloodshed, as in the days of the French Revolution, and 
the more recent revolutions of hungry mobs in Russia and other 
parts of Europe. It is all a part of a world-old struggle for freedom 
and “a place in the sun.” It is a struggle which will cease only when 
men recognize God’s law of right and justice to all. 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
From his last photograph made in 1865 









THE ANTIQUITY OF FREEDOM 

William Cullen Bryant 

O Freedom! thou art not, as poets dream, 

A fair young girl, with light and delicate limbs, 

And wavy tresses gushing from the cap 

With which the Roman master crowned his slave 

When he took off the gyves. A bearded man, 

Armed to the teeth, art thou: one mailed hand 
Grasps the broad shield, and one the sword; thy brow, 
Glorious in beauty though it be, is scarred 
With tokens of old wars; thy massive limbs 
Are strong with struggling. Power at thee has launched 
His bolts, and with his lightnings smitten thee; 

They could not quench the life thou hast from Heaven. 
Merciless Power has dug thy dungeon deep, 

And his swart armorers, by a thousand fires, 

Have forged thy chain; yet while he deems thee bound, 
The links are shivered, and the prison walls 
Fall outward: terribly thou springest forth, 

As springs the flame above a burning pile, 

And shoutest to the nations, who return 
Thy shoutings, while the pale oppressor flies. 

Thy birthright was not given by human hands: 

Thou wert twin-born with man. In pleasant fields, 
While yet our race was few, thou sat’st with him, 

To tend the quiet flock, and watch the stars, 

And teach the reed to utter simple airs. 

81 


82 


FREEDOM AND DEMOCRACY 


Thou by his side, amid the tangled wood, 

Didst war upon the panther and the wolf, 

His only foes; and thou with him didst draw 
The earliest furrows on the mountain side, 

Soft with the deluge. Tyranny himself, 

Thy enemy, although of reverend look, 

Hoary with many years, and far obeyed, 

Is later born than thou; and as he meets 
The grave defiance of thine elder eye, 

The usurper trembles in his fastnesses. 

Thou shalt wax stronger with the lapse of years, 

But he shall fade into a feebler age; 

Feebler yet subtler: he shall weave his snares, 

And spring them on thy careless steps, and clap 
His withered hands, and from their ambush call 
His hordes to fall upon thee. He shall send 
Quaint maskers, wearing fair and gallant forms 
To catch thy gaze, and uttering graceful words 
To charm thy ear; while his sly imps, by stealth, 

Twine round thee threads of steel, light thread on thread, 
That grow to fetters; or bind down thy arms 
With chains concealed in chaplets. Oh! not yet 
Mayest thou embrace thy corselet, nor lay by 
Thy sword; nor yet, O Freedom! close thy lids 
In slumber; for thine enemy never sleeps, 

And thou must watch and combat, till the day 
Of the new earth and heaven. But wouldst thou rest 
Awhile from the tumults and the frauds of men, 

These old and friendly solitudes invite 
Thy visit. They, while yet the forest trees 
Were young upon the unviolated earth, 

And yet the moss stains on the rock were new, 

Beheld thy glorious childhood, and rejoiced. 


THE “MAGNA CARTA” 


83 


Study Helps and Questions 

1. What is meant by the “Antiquity of Freedom”? 

2. To what does the poet compare Freedom? 

3. Why does he speak of Freedom as an “armed man scarred with 

wars”? 

4. State some ways in which Freedom has been oppressed. 

5. How did the spirit of Freedom help the pioneer in his struggle 

against the wilderness? 

6. How does the poet describe Tyranny? How does he compare 

Tyranny and Freedom? 

7. Explain the methods that Tyranny employs to overcome 

Freedom. 

8. Why must Freedom never rest, but always be on its guard against 

fraud? 

THE SIGNING OF THE “MAGNA CARTA ” 
Henry P. Warren 

On a summer day, in the year 1215, a meadow near 
Windsor was the scene of an event which Englishmen 
look back upon as one of the most important events in 
their history. 

The chief figure in the scene was a king — a king so 
bad that no other king of England has borne his name. 
It was John, whose rebellion had broken the heart of 
his father, Henry II. 

John had been a bad son and a bad brother before he 
became a bad king. He had done his best to get the 
kingdom away from his brother Richard, who had in 
his noble way forgiven him. He was a mean, false, 
cruel man. When a lad, he had gone to Ireland on be¬ 
half of his father to receive the homage of the Irish 
chiefs, and amused himself there by pulling hairs out 
of their beards. 



8 4 


FREEDOM AND DEMOCRACY 


He was at heart a coward, but played the bully when 
he had nothing to fear. He was greedy and wasteful, 
slothful and stubborn, bad-tempered, and guilty of all 
kinds of wickedness. He actually put to death his own 
nephew, Arthur, a boy of sixteen, because some of his 
French subjects wished to have Arthur as their king. 

John brought upon himself much trouble, and upon 
England much disgrace, by his wilful folly. • 

The Archbishop of Canterbury having died, a new 
one had to be chosen. The right of choice lay with the 
monks of Canterbury. An appeal was made to the 
Pope, who caused an English cardinal, named Stephen 
Langton, to be made Archbishop. 

Langton was a great and good man. He was a hard 
worker and a learned writer; it was he who first divided 
the books of the Bible into chapters as they are at the 
present time. Above all, he tried to persuade John to 
rule well. 

John was furious when he heard of what the Pope had 
done. For six years the new archbishop dared not come 
to England, so terrible were John’s threats. The monks 
of Canterbury were driven out of their monastery, and 
the church lands were seized. 

In order to force John to admit the archbishop and 
restore the monks, the Pope laid the country under an 
Interdict, that is, he ordered churches to be shut up, 
forbade services to be held, and would not even allow 
the burial service to be used. 

John did not care for this; the trouble fell only on 
the people. Then the Pope declared that the king was 
no longer a member of the Church, and that he must be 
shunned as an outcast. The Pope also ordered Philip, 


THE “MAGNA CARTA 


85 

King of France, to take John’s kingdom from him. 
When John found that Philip was preparing to do so, 
and that his own lords were deserting him, he gave way. 

He allowed Langton to go to England; he promised 
to give back to the Church the lands he had taken from 
it. 

Meanwhile the barons were growing more and more 
weary of John’s rule. Heavy taxes were laid upon 
them, and in many ways they were shamefully treated. 
The common people fared no better. 

At length, at a council held in London, Stephen Lang¬ 
ton brought out and read to the clergy and barons the 
Charter of Henry I, in which that king had promised 
to rule England according to English law. The barons 
solemnly swore to compel John to rule according to this 
Charter. 

Some time after, when John sent to ask what the 
barons wanted, Langton, as their spokesman, went to 
him, and read out the articles which afterwards became 
the great Charter. Then John flew into a rage, and 
declared that he would never agree to them. “Why do 
they not demand my kingdom also?” he cried. 

The barons at once took up arms under Robert Fitz- 
walter, and were gladly welcomed by the citizens of 
London. Finding that his party was growing less and 
less, and the party of the barons stronger and stronger, 
the king at last gave way. At Runnymede, he signed 
the Great Charter of English freedom. 

On the meadow of Runnymede, after sixteen years of 
misrule, King John was compelled to set his seal to a 
charter which made Englishmen forever free. 

About him were grouped some of England’s greatest 


86 


FREEDOM AND DEMOCRACY 


men. There was Cardinal Stephen Langton, Arch¬ 
bishop of Canterbury, a wise and learned man, who 
loved England well. There were Robert Fitzwalter and 
William Marshal, great barons, who were ready to use 
their swords against the tyrant king. These men stood 
there while John unwillingly put his seal to the Charter 
drawn up by Langton. 

How did this great Charter make Englishmen free? 
Firstly, it settled what the rights of the people were, and 
showed that there were certain things which King John 
must not do. Secondly, it remained for future ages to 
refer to: whenever a king was inclined to act like a 
tyrant, there was the Great Charter for the people to 
appeal to. It was confirmed many times by succeeding 
kings; upon it other charters of liberty were based. 

It laid down the rule that the king could not demand 
money from his people without the consent of the Coun¬ 
cil of the Realm. It declared that no freeman should 
be put in prison, or banished, or deprived of his goods 
until he had been judged by his equals according to the 
law of the land. The laborer’s tools, the merchant’s 
goods, were as carefully guarded as the wealth of the 
barons. 

“To none will we sell or deny or delay right or jus¬ 
tice” are the famous words of the Charter. In short, 
it secured liberty and justice for all, — high and low, 
rich and poor. 


Study Helps and Questions 

1. What was the Magna Carta? When and where was it signed? 

2. Describe the character of King John. State some ways in 

which he showed his cruel and crafty nature. What kind of 
a ruler did he make? 


THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE 87 

3. Who was Stephen Langton? What kind of man was he? To 

what position was he appointed and by whom? 

4. How did John feel about this appointment? What did he do 

to show his anger? How was he forced to recognize Stephen 
Langton’s appointment? 

5. How did John treat the barons of England? How did he treat 

the people? 

6. What was done at the council held in London? Who was the 

leader of this council? How did John receive the articles 
drawn up by the council? 

7. How was John forced to agree to the demands of the barons? 

Tell what happened at Runnymede. Name some of the great 
leaders who opposed the tyrant king. 

8. How did the great Charter make England free? State some of 

the rights it secured to the people. 


THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE 

Thomas Jefferson 

When, in the course of human events, it becomes 
necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands 
which have connected them with another, and to as¬ 
sume, among the powers of the earth, the separate and 
equal station to which the laws of nature and of nature’s 
God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of 
mankind requires that they should declare the causes 
which impel them to the separation. 

We hold these truths to be self-evident: — That all 
men are created equal; that they are endowed by their 
Creator with certain inalienable rights; that among these 
are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. That, to 
secure these rights, governments are instituted among 
men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the 



88 


FREEDOM AND DEMOCRACY 


governed; that, whenever any form of government be¬ 
comes destructive of these ends, it is the right of the 
people to alter or to abolish it, and to institute a new 
government, laying its foundation on such principles, 
and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall 
seem most likely to effect their safety and happiness. 
Prudence, indeed, will dictate that governments long 
established should not be changed for light and transient 
causes; and accordingly, all experience hath shown that 
mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are 
sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the 
forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long 
train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the 
same object, evinces a design to reduce them under 
absolute despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to 
throw off such government, and to provide new guards 
for their future security. Such has been the patient 
sufferance of these colonies; and such is now the neces¬ 
sity that constrains them to alter their former systems 
of government. . . . 

We, therefore, the Representatives of the United 
States of America, in General Congress assembled, ap¬ 
pealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the 
rectitude of our intentions, do, in the name and by the 
authority of the good people of these colonies, solemnly 
publish and declare, That these united Colonies are, 
and of right ought to be, free and independent states; 
that they are absolved from all allegiance to the British 
crown and that all political connection between them and 
the state of Great Britain is, and ought to be, totally 
dissolved; and that as free and independent states, they 
have full power to levy war, conclude peace, contract 




SPEECH IN THE VIRGINIA CONVENTION 89 

alliances, establish commerce, and to do all other acts 
and things which independent states may of right do. 
And for the support of this declaration, with a firm re¬ 
liance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutu¬ 
ally pledge to each other our lives, our fortunes, and our 
sacred honor. — Abridged . 

Study Helps and Questions 

1. What is the Declaration of Independence? 

2. Why is it so cherished by the American people? 

3. When, where, and by whom was it written? 

4. Name some famous Americans who signed it. 

5. Review briefly the causes that led to the Declaration of Inde¬ 

pendence. 

6. State some of the rights and privileges it sets forth. 

7. What is the duty of Americans with regard to the principles 

embodied in the Declaration of Independence? 


A SPEECH IN THE VIRGINIA CONVENTION, 
MARCH 23, 1775 

Patrick Henry 

Mr. President: It is natural to man to indulge in the 
illusions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against 
a painful truth and listen to the song of the siren, till 
she transforms us into beasts. Is this the part of wise 
men, engaged in a great and arduous struggle for liberty? 
Are we disposed to be of the number of those who, hav¬ 
ing eyes, see not, and having ears, hear not, the things 
which so nearly concern their temporal salvation? For 
my part, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, I am 



9 o 


FREEDOM AND DEMOCRACY 


willing to know the whole truth; to know the worst, 
and to provide for it. 

I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided; 
and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way 
of judging of the future but by the past. And judging 
by the past, I wish to know what there has been in the 
conduct of the British ministry for the last ten years, to 
justify those hopes with which gentlemen have been 
pleased to solace themselves and the house. Is it that 
insidious smile with which our petition has been lately re¬ 
ceived? Trust it not, sir; it will prove a snare to your feet. 

Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss. Ask 
yourselves how this gracious reception of our petition 
comports with those warlike preparations which cover 
our waters and darken our land. Are fleets and armies 
necessary to a work of love and reconciliation? Have 
we shown ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled that 
force must be called in to win back our love? Let us 
not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the implements 
of war and subjugation — the last arguments to which 
kings resort. 

I ask gentlemen, sir, what means this martial array, 
if its purpose be not to force us to submission? Can 
gentlemen assign any other possible motive for it? Has 
Great Britain any enemy in this quarter of the world 
to call for all this accumulation of navies and armies? 
No, sir, she has none. They are meant for us; they can 
be meant for no other. They are sent over to bind and 
rivet upon us those chains which the British ministry 
have been so long forging. 

Shall we resort to entreaty and humble supplication? 
What terms shall we find, which have not been already 


SPEECH IN THE VIRGINIA CONVENTION 


9i 


exhausted? Let us not, I beseech you, sir, deceive our¬ 
selves longer. 

Sir, we have done everything that could be done, 
to avert the storm which is now coming on. . . . 

If we wish to be free, if we mean to preserve invio¬ 
late these inestimable privileges for which we have been 
so long contending, ... we must fight. I repeat it, sir, 
we must fight. An appeal to arms, and to the God of 
hosts, is all that is left us. 

They tell us, sir, that we are weak, — unable to 
cope with so formidable an adversary. But when shall 
we be stronger? Will it be the next week, or the next 
year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when 
a British guard shall be stationed in every house? . . . 

Sir, we are not weak, if we make a proper use of those 
means which the God of nature hath placed in our 
power. Three millions of people armed in the holy 
cause of liberty and in such a country as that which we 
possess, are invincible by any force which our enemy can 
send against us. Besides, sir, we shall not fight our bat¬ 
tles alone. There is a just God who presides over the 
destinies of nations, and who will raise up friends to 
fight our battles for us. The battle, sir, is not to the 
strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. 

Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were base 
enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the 
contest. There is no retreat but in submission and 
slavery! Our chains are forged. Their clanking may 
be heard on the plains of Boston! The war is inevitable 
— and let it come! I repeat it, sir, let it come! 

It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen 
may cry, “ Peace, peace,” — but there is no peace. 


92 


FREEDOM AND DEMOCRACY 


The war is actually begun. The next gale that sweeps 
from the north will bring to our ears the clash of re¬ 
sounding arms. Our brethren are already in the field. 
Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen 
wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace 
so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and 
slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what 
course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty 
or give me death! 

Study Helps and Questions 

1. Who was Patrick Henry? 

2. Why is he often called the tongue of the Revolution? 

3. When, where, and on what occasion did he make this famous 

speech? 

4. What did he mean by his reference to “the song of the sirens”? 

5. Explain what is meant by the expression “the lamp of ex¬ 

perience.” 

6. How does the orator speak of the attitude of the British minis¬ 

try to the colonies? 

7. How does he speak of the actions of the colonies? 

8. What does he declare to be their duty? 

9. In what way does he urge the colonies to defend their rights? 

10. What spirit does he express in his famous words, “Give me 

liberty, or give me death”? 


LEXINGTON 

Oliver Wendell Holmes 

Slowly the mist o’er the meadow was creeping, 

Bright on the dewy buds glistened the sun, 

When from his couch, while his children were sleeping, 
Rose the bold rebel and shouldered his gun. 

Waving her golden veil 
Over the silent dale, 



LEXINGTON 


93 


Blithe looked the morning on cottage and spire; 
Hushed was his parting sigh, 

While from his noble eye 
Flashed the last sparkle of liberty’s fire. 

On the smooth green where the fresh leaf is springing 
Calmly the first-born of glory have met; 

Hark! the death volley around them is ringing! 

Look! with their life-blood the young grass is wet! 
Faint is the feeble breath, 

Murmuring low in death, 

“Tell to our sons how their fathers have died”; 
Nerveless the iron hand, 

Raised for its native land, 

Lies by the weapon that gleams at its side. 

Over the hillsides the wild knell is tolling, 

From their far hamlets the yeomanry come; 

As through the storm-clouds the thunder-burst rolling, 
Circles the beat of the mustering drum. 

Fast on the soldier’s path 
Darken the waves of wrath, 

Long have they gathered and loud shall they fall; 

Red glares the musket’s flash, 

Sharp rings the rifle’s crash, 

Blazing and clanging from thicket and wall. 

Gayly the plume of the horseman was dancing, 

Never to shadow his cold brow again; 

Proudly at morning the war-steed was prancing, 
Reeking and panting he droops on the rein; 

Pale is the lip of scorn, 

Voiceless the trumpet horn, 

Torn is the silken-fringed red cross on high; 

Many a belted breast 
Low on the turf shall rest, 

Ere the dark hunters the herd have passed by. 


94 


FREEDOM AND DEMOCRACY 


Snow-girdled crags where the hoarse wind is raving, 
Rocks where the weary floods murmur and wail, 
Wilds where the fern by the furrow is waving, 
Reeled with the echoes that rode on the gale; 

Far as the tempest thrills 
Over the darkened hills, 

Far as the sunshine streams over the plain, 

Roused by the tyrant band, 

Woke all the mighty land, 

Girded for battle, from mountain to main. 

Green be the graves where her martyrs are'lying! 

Shroudless and tombless they sunk to their rest, 
While o’er their ashes the starry fold flying 

Wraps the proud eagle they roused from his nest. 
Borne on her Northern pine, 

Long o’er the foaming brine 
Spread her broad banner to storm and to sun; 
Heaven keep her ever free, 

Wide as o’er land and sea, 

Floats the fair emblem her heroes have won! 


Study Helps and Questions 

The battle of Lexington was fought on April 19, 1775. It was the 
opening battle of the Revolution. General Gage, the British military 
commander at Boston, sent a detachment of British regulars under 
Major Pitcairn to Lexington to capture the American patriots, Samuel 
Adams and John Hancock, and also to destroy some American supplies 
at Concord, a short distance beyond Lexington. The British tried to 
keep their plans a secret, but the Americans soon found them out, and 
sent Paul Revere and William Dawes, two brave minute-men, to 
arouse the country. When the British entered Lexington at day¬ 
break, they were met by a small band of minute-men, and a battle 
ensued. Several Americans were killed and wounded, and the little 
band was forced to retire before the superior British force. The regu¬ 
lars marched on to Concord, but most of the stores had already been 


WOMEN OF THE REVOLUTION 


95 


removed, so that there was little left to destroy. Meanwhile, the 
sturdy New England farmers, roused by the wild ringing of bells, poured 
a deadly fire into the British regulars from every tree and stone wall, 
and sent them hurrying back to Boston completely routed. 

1. Locate Boston, Lexington, and Concord. 

2. Where were the British forces stationed, and why? 

3. Why was a detachment sent to Lexington and Concord? 

4. When did they reach Lexington? By whom were they met? 

Describe the skirmish that followed. 

5. What happened at Concord? 

6. How were the British routed? 

7. What does the first verse of the poem describe? 

8. Read the second verse and tell how the patriots died. What 

message did they send to their sons? 

9. Tell how the farmers were aroused. Tell how they fought. 

10. Compare the proud advance of the British regulars with their 

hurried retreat. 

11. How did the news of the battle of Lexington affect the country? 

What was the result? 

12. What reference is made to the martyrs of Lexington, and to 

the land for which they made their heroic sacrifice? 


WOMEN OF THE REVOLUTION 
Mary E. Blake 

Heart of the patriot touched by Freedom’s kindling breath, 
Pouring its burning words from lips by passion fired! 

Sword of the soldier drawn in the awful face of death! 

Bounteous pen of the scholar tracing its theme inspired! 
Wealth of the rich man’s coffers, help of the poor man’s dole! 
Strength of the sturdy arm and might of the statesman’s 
fame, 

These be fit themes for praise, in days that tried the soul, 

But where in the list is room for mention of woman’s name? 



FREEDOM AND DEMOCRACY 


96 

For hers are the virtues cast in finer and gentler mould; 

In quiet and peaceful paths her nature finds its scope. 
Stronger in loving than hating, fond where the man is bold, 
She works with the tools of patience and wonderful gifts 
of hope. 

Nay! When the man is called the woman must swiftly rise, 
Ready to strengthen and bless, ready to follow or wait; 
Ready to crush in her heart the anguish of tears and sighs, 
Reading the message of God in the blind decrees of fate! 

So, in days of the past, when Liberty raised her voice, 

Weak as a new-born babe in the cradle who wakes and calls, 
And the tremulous accents ran through the beautiful land of 
her choice —* 

As into the heart of the mother the cry of her infant falls — 
So did the hand of woman reach to hand of the man, 

Helping with comfort and love, steeling his own for the strife; 
Till the calm of her steadfast soul through his wavering 
pulses ran, 

And the blow of the husband’s arm was nerved from the 
heart of the wife. 

Wearing a homespun gown, or ruling with easy sway 

The world of fashion and pride, gilded by fortune’s sun, 
Rich or poor, who asks, as we read the record of to-day? 

Lowly or great, who cares how the poor distinctions run? 
Hallowed be every name in the roll of honor and fame, 

Since on hearthstone and field they kindled the sacred fire, 
Since with fostering breath they nurtured liberty’s name, 
And set it aloft on the heights to which heroes’ feet aspire. 

Molly of Monmouth, staunch in the place of her fallen brave, 
Drowning the cry of defeat in the lusty roar of her gun; 
Rebecca, the Lady of Buckhead, who, eager for freedom, gave 
Home of her heart to the burning, and smiled when the 
work was done; 


WOMEN OF THE REVOLUTION 


97 


Abigail Adams of Quincy, noble of soul and race, 

Reader of men and books, wielder of distaff and pen; 

Martha Wilson of Jersey, moving with courtly grace, 
Deborah Samson, fighting side by side with the men; 

Frances Allen, the Tory, choosing the better part, 

Led by Ethan, the daring, to follow his glorious way; 

Elizabeth Zane of Wheeling, timid, yet brave of heart, 
Bearing her burden of powder through smoke and flame of 
the fray; 

Each, on the endless list, through length and breadth of the 
land, 

Winning her deathless place on the golden scroll of time, 

Fair as in old Greek days the women of Sparta stand, 

Linked with the heroes’ fame and sharing their deeds sub¬ 
lime. 

Plain of speech and of dress, as fitted their age and place, 
Meet companions for men of sterner creed and fame; 

Yet knowing the worth of a word, and fair with the old-time 
grace 

That perfumes like breath of a flower the page that holds 
their name. 

Honor they taught, and right, and noble courage of truth, 
Strength to suffer and bear in holy liberty’s need; 

Framing through turbulent years and fiery season of youth, 
Soul for the valor of thought, hand for the valor of deed. 

Well that with praise of the brave, song of their triumph 
should blend! 

Well that in joy of the land fame of their glory find part! 

For theirs is the tone of the chord that holds its full strength 
to the end, 

When music that dies on the ear still lingers and sings in 
the heart. 


98 FREEDOM AND DEMOCRACY 

Letter and word may die, but still the spirit survives, 
Rounding in ages unborn each frail, distorted plan; 

And fittest survival is that when souls of mothers and wives 
Bloom in immortal deeds through life of child and of man. 

Study Helps and Questions • 

1. In the first verse, what reference is made to the work of man 

in time of war? 

2. How does the second verse speak of woman and her work in war 

time? 

3. How did the women of the colonies help in the days of the 

Revolution? 

4. What heroines of the Revolution are mentioned in the poem? 

Tell how each served her country. 

5. What lessons did the women of the Revolution teach to their 

children? What influence did they have on the history of 
our land? 

6. Tell something of the war work of women in our present day. 

Mention some of the ways in which children helped during 
our last war. 


NATHAN HALE 
Francis M. Finch 

To drum-beat and heart-beat, 

A soldier marches by; 

There is color in his cheek, 

There is courage in his* eye; 

Yet to drum-beat and heart-beat, 
In a moment he must die. 

By starlight and moonlight, 

He seeks the Britons’ camp; 

He hears the rustling flag 
And the armed sentry’s tramp; 

And the starlight and moonlight 
His silent wanderings lamp. 



NATHAN HALE 


With slow tread and still tread, 

He scans the tented line, 

And he counts the battery guns 
By the gaunt and shadowy pine; 

And his slow tread and still tread 
Gives out no warning sign. 

The dark wave, the plumed wave, 
It meets his eager glance; 

And it sparkles ’neath the stars, 
Like the glimmer of a lance — 

A dark wave, a plumed wave, 

On an emerald expanse. 

A sharp clang, a steel clang, 

And terror in the sound! 

For the sentry, falcon-eyed, 

In the camps a spy has found; 

With a sharp clang, a steel clang, 
The patriot is bound. 

With calm brow, steady brow, 

He listens to his doom. 

In his look there is no fear, 

Nor a shadow, trace of gloom, 

But with calm brow, steady brow, 
He robes him for the tomb. 

In the long night, the still night, 

He kneels upon the sod; 

And the brutal guards withhold 
E’en the solemn word of God! 

In the long night, the still night, 

He walks where Christ hath trod. 


100 


FREEDOM AND DEMOCRACY 


’Neath the blue morn, the sunny morn, 
He dies upon the tree; 

And he mourns that he can give 
But one life for liberty; 

And in the blue morn, the sunny morn, 
His spirit wings are free. 

But his last words, his message words, 
They burn, lest friendly eye 
Should read how proud and calm 
A patriot could die, 

With his last words, his dying words, 

A soldier’s battle cry. 

From Fame-leaf and Angel-leaf, 

From monument and urn, 

The sad of earth, the glad of Heaven, 
His tragic Tate shall learn; 

And on Fame-leaf, and Angel-leaf, 

The name of Hale shall burn. 


Study Helps and Questions 

1. Who was Nathan Hale? 

2. Why did he go to the British camp? 

3. How was he captured? 

4. What was his doom? How did he receive it? How was he 

treated by his guards? 

5. How did he die? What was his last message? 

6. What do you think of Hale’s work for his country? 


WASHINGTON ON THE DELAWARE 


IOI 


WASHINGTON ON THE DELAWARE 
Joaquin Miller 

The snow was red with patriot blood, 

The proud foe tracked the blood-red snow, 
The flying patriots crossed the flood 
A tattered, shattered band of woe. 

Forlorn each barefoot hero stood, 

With bare head bended low. 


“Let us cross back! Death waits us here!” 
“Recross or die!” the chieftain said. 

A famished soldier dropped a tear — 

A tear that froze as it was shed; 

For oh, his starving babes were dear — 
They had but this for bread! 


A captain spoke — “It cannot be! 

These bleeding men, why, what could they? 
’Twould be as snowflakes in the sea!” 

The worn chief did not heed or say. 

He set his firm lips silently, 

Then turned aside to pray. 


And as he kneeled and prayed to God, 
God’s finger spun the stars in space; 

He spread his banner blue and broad, 

He dashed the dead sun’s stripes in place, 
Till war walked heaven fire shod 
And lit the chieftain’s face; 


102 


FREEDOM AND DEMOCRACY 


Till every soldier’s heart was stirred, 

Till every sword shook in its sheath, — 

“Up! up! Face back. But not one word!” 

God’s flag above; the ice beneath — 

They crossed so still, they only heard 
The icebergs grind their teeth! 

Ho! Hessians, hirelings at meat 
While praying patriots hunger so! 

Then, bang! Boom! Bang! Death and defeat! 

And blood? Aye, blood upon the snow! 

Yet not the blood of patriotic feet, 

But heart’s blood of the foe! 

O ye who hunger and despair! 

O ye who perish for the sun, 

Look up and dare, for God is there; 

And man can do what man has done! 

Think, think of darkling Delaware! 

Think, think of Washington! 


Study Helps and Questions 

On Christmas night (1776), Washington with a small force crossed 
the Delaware River, then full of floating ice, and in the midst of a 
furious snow-storm fell upon a large body of Hessians at Trenton 
and completely routed them, capturing a large quantity of arms. All 
this he did with the loss of but four men, two of whom were frozen. 
The victory put new life into the almost despairing hearts of the 
American patriots. 

1. Describe the men who crossed the Delaware with Washington 

on this trip. 

2. Explain why the snow was “red with patriot blood.” 

3. State some of the difficulties in crossing the Delaware at this 

time. 

4. Why were the American troops so downcast? 


FAREWELL ADDRESS 


103 

5. What was Washington’s attitude? Why did he have so much 

courage and faith? 

6. Why did Washington attack the Hessians on Christmas night? 

7. What was the result of this attack? What was its effect on the 

American army? 

8. What qualities of leadership did Washington show in this event? 


FAREWELL ADDRESS TO THE PEOPLE OF 
THE UNITED STATES 

George Washington 

Observe good faith and justice towards all nations; 
cultivate peace and harmony with all. Religion and 
morality enjoin this conduct; and can it be, that good 
policy does not equally enjoin it? It will be worthy of 
a free, enlightened, and at no distant period a great 
nation, to give to mankind the magnanimous and too 
novel example of a people always guided by an exalted 
justice and benevolence. Who can doubt that in the 
course of time and things, the fruits of such a plan 
would richly repay any temporary advantages, which 
might be lost by a steady adherence to it? Can it be 
that Providence has not connected the permanent felic¬ 
ity of a nation with its virtue? The experiment, at 
least, is recommended by every sentiment which en¬ 
nobles human nature. Alas! is it rendered impossible 
by its vices? . . . 

It is our true policy to steer clear of permanent alli¬ 
ances with any portion of the foreign world; so far, I 
mean, as we are now at liberty to do it; for let me not 
be understood as capable of patronizing infidelity to 




104 


FREEDOM AND DEMOCRACY 


existing engagements. I hold the maxim no less appli¬ 
cable to public than to private affairs, that honesty is 
always the best policy. I repeat it, therefore, let those 
engagements be observed in their genuine sense. But, 
in my opinion, it is unnecessary and would be unwise 
to extend them. 

Taking care always to keep ourselves, by suitable 
establishments, on a respectable defensive posture, we 
may safely trust to temporary alliances for extraordinary 
emergencies. 

Harmony, liberal intercourse with all nations, are rec¬ 
ommended by policy, humanity, and interest. But 
even our commercial policy should hold an equal and 
impartial hand; neither seeking nor granting exclusive 
favors or preferences; consulting the natural course of 
things; diffusing and diversifying by gentle means the 
streams of commerce, but forcing nothing; establishing 
with powers so disposed, in order to give trade a stable 
course, to define the rights of our merchants, and to 
enable the government to support them, conventional 
rules of intercourse, the best that present circumstances 
and mutual opinion will permit, but temporary, and 
liable to be from time to time abandoned or varied, as 
experience and circumstances shall dictate; constantly 
keeping in view, that it is folly in one nation to look 
for disinterested favors from another; that it must pay 
with a portion of its independence for whatever it may 
accept under that character; that, by such acceptance, 
it may place itself in the condition of having given equiv¬ 
alents for nominal favors, and yet of being reproached 
with ingratitude for not giving more. There can be no 
greater error than to expect or calculate upon real faVors 


FAREWELL ADDRESS 


105 

from nation to nation. It is an illusion, which experi¬ 
ence must cure, which a just pride ought to discard. 

In offering to you, my countrymen, these counsels of 
an old and affectionate friend, I dare not hope they will 
make the strong and lasting impression I could wish; 
that they will control the usual current of the passions, 
or prevent our nation from running the course which 
has hitherto marked the destiny of nations. But, if I 
may even flatter myself that they may be productive of 
some partial benefit, some occasional good; that they 
may now and then recur to moderate the fury of party 
spirit, to warn against the mischiefs of foreign intrigue, 
to guard against the impostures of pretended patriotism; 
this hope will be a full recompense for the solicitude for 
your welfare by which they have been dictated. 


“ Great occasions do not make heroes or cowards. 
They simply unveil them to the eyes of men. Silently 
and imperceptibly, as we wake or sleep, we grow and 
wax strong, we grow and wax weak; and at last some 
crisis shows us what we have become.” 

Study Helps 

A few months before the close of his last term as President, Wash¬ 
ington issued this famous address to the American people. It was the 
final word of a wise and loving father to his children. 

Washington was an astute statesman, and in his deep unselfish 
affection for his people, he sought to save them from making political 
errors that would militate against them as a nation. Few papers have 
had as great an influence on political thought in America. His advice 
with regard to our foreign policy is of special interest. 

Read the selection from his address given here, and see if you think 
these policies should be applied to our country to-day. 






io6 FREEDOM AND DEMOCRACY 


THE FALL OF THE BASTILLE 

Charles Dickens 

Saint Antoine had been, that morning, a vast dusky 
mass of scarecrows heaving to and fro, with frequent 
gleams of light above the billowy heads, where steel 
blades and bayonets shone in the sun. A tremendous 
roar arose from the throat of Saint Antoine, and a forest 
of naked arms struggled in the air like shrivelled 
branches of trees in a winter wind: all the fingers con¬ 
vulsively clutching at every weapon or semblance of a 
weapon that was thrown up from the depths below, no 
matter how far off. 

Who gave them out, whence they last came, where 
they began, through what agency they crookedly quiv¬ 
ered and jerked, scores at a time, over the heads of the 
crowd, like a kind of lightning, no eye in the throng 
could have told; but, muskets were being distributed — 
so were cartridges, powder, and ball, bars of iron and 
wood, knives, axes, pikes, every weapon that distracted 
ingenuity could discover or devise. People who could 
lay hold of nothing else, set themselves with bleeding 
hands to force stones and bricks out of their places in 
the walls. Every pulse and heart in Saint Antoine was 
on high-fever strain and at high-fever heat. Every liv¬ 
ing creature there, held life as of no account, and was 
demented with a passionate readiness to sacrifice it. 

As a whirlpool of boiling waters has a centre point, 
so, all this raging circled round Defarge’s wine-shop, 
and every human drop in the caldron had a tendency to 


THE FALL OF THE BASTILLE 


107 

be sucked towards the vortex where Defarge himself, 
already begrimed with gunpowder and sweat, issued 
orders, issued arms, thrust this man back, dragged this 
man forward, disarmed one to arm another, laboured 
and strove in the thickest of the uproar. 

“Keep near to me, Jacques Three,” cried Defarge; 
“and do you, Jacques One and Two, separate and put 
yourselves at the head of as many of these patriots as 
you can. Where is my wife?” 

“Eh, well! Here you see me!” said madame, com¬ 
posed as ever, but not knitting today. Madame’s res¬ 
olute right hand was occupied with an axe, in place of 
the usual softer implements, and in her girdle were a 
pistol and a cruel knife. 

“Where do you go, my wife?” 

“I go,” said madame, “with you, at present. You 
shall see me at the head of women, by-and-by.” 

“Come, then!” cried Defarge, in a resounding voice. 
“Patriots and friends, we are ready! The Bastille!” 

With a roar that sounded as if all the breath in France 
had been shaped into the detested word, the living sea 
rose, wave on wave, depth on depth, and overflowed 
the city to that point. Alarm-bells ringing, drums beat¬ 
ing, the sea raging and thundering on its new beach, 
the attack began. 

Deep ditches, double drawbridge, massive stone walls, 
eight great towers, cannon, muskets, fire and smoke. 
Through the fire and through the smoke — in the fire 
and in the smoke, for the sea cast him up against a 
cannon, and on the instant he became a cannonier 
— Defarge of the wine-shop worked like a manful sol¬ 
dier, two fierce hours. 


108 FREEDOM AND DEMOCRACY 

Deep ditch, single drawbridge, massive stone walls, 
eight great towers, cannon, muskets, fire and smoke. 
One drawbridge down! “Work, comrades all, work! 
Work, Jacques One, Jacques Two, Jacques One Thou¬ 
sand, Jacques Two Thousand, Jacques Five-and-Twenty 
Thousand; in the name of all the Angels or the Devils 
— which you prefer — work!” Thus Defarge of the 
wine-shop, still at his gun, which had long grown hot. 

“To me, women!” cried madame, his wife. “What! 
We can kill as well as the men when the place is taken!” 
And to her, with a shrill, thirsty cry, trooping women 
variously armed, but all armed alike in hunger and 
vengeance. 

Cannon, muskets, fire and smoke; but, still the deep 
ditch, the single drawbridge, the massive stone walls, 
and the eight great towers. Slight displacements of the 
raging sea, made by the falling wounded. Flashing 
weapons, blazing torches, smoking wagon-loads of wet 
straw, hard work at neighbouring barricades in all direc¬ 
tions, shrieks, volleys, execrations, bravery without stint, 
boom, smash and rattle, and the furious sounding of the 
living sea; but, still the deep ditch, and the single draw¬ 
bridge, and the massive stone walls, and the eight great 
towers, and still Defarge of the wine-shop at his gun, 
grown doubly hot by the service of four fierce hours. 

A white flag from within the fortress, and a parley —• 
this dimly perceptible through the raging storm, nothing 
audible in it — suddenly the sea rose immeasurably wider 
and higher, and swept Defarge of the wine-shop over the 
lowered drawbridge, past the massive stone outer walls, 
in among the eight great towers surrendered! 

So resistless was the force of the ocean bearing him 


THE FALL OF THE BASTILLE 109 

on, that even to draw his breath or turn his head was 
as impracticable as if he had been struggling in the surf 
of the South Sea, until he was landed in the outer court¬ 
yard of the Bastille. There, against an angle of a wall, 
he made a struggle to look about him. Jacques Three 
was nearly at his side; Madame Defarge, still heading 
some of her women, was visible in the inner distance, 
and her knife was in her hand. Everywhere was tu¬ 
mult, exultation, deafening and maniacal bewilderment, 
astounding noise, yet furious dumb-show. 

“The Prisoners!” 

“The Records!” 

“The secret cells!” 

“The instruments of torture!” 

“The Prisoners!” 

Of all these cries, and ten thousand incoherencies, 
“The Prisoners!” was the cry most taken up by the sea 
that rushed in, as if there were an eternity of people, as 
well as of time and space. When the foremost billows 
rolled past, bearing the prison officers with them, and 
threatening them all with instant death if any secret 
nook remained undisclosed, Defarge laid his strong hand 
on the breast of one of these men — a man with a grey 
head who had a lighted torch in his hand — separated 
him from the rest, and got him between himself and the 
wall. 

“Show me the North Tower!” said Defarge. “Quick!” 

“I will faithfully,” replied the man, “if you will come 
with me. But there is no one there.” 

“What is the meaning of One Hundred and Five, 
North Tower?” asked Defarge. “Quick!” 

“The meaning, monsieur?” 


no 


FREEDOM AND DEMOCRACY 


“Does it mean a captive, or a place of captivity? 
Or do you mean that I shall strike you dead?” 

“Kill him!” croaked Jacques Three, who had come 
close up. 

“Monsieur, it is a cell.” 

“Show it me!” 

“Pass this way, then.” 

Jacques Three, with his usual craving on him, and 
evidently disappointed by the dialogue taking a turn 
that did not seem to promise bloodshed, held by De- 
farge’s arm as he held by the turnkey’s. Their three 
heads had been close together during this brief discourse, 
and it had been as much as they could do to hear one 
another, even then: so tremendous was the noise of the 
living ocean, in its irruption into the Fortress, and its 
inundation of the courts and passages and staircases. 
All around outside, too, it beat the walls with a deep, 
hoarse roar, from which, occasionally, some partial 
shouts of tumult broke and leaped into the air like 
spray. 

Through gloomy vaults where the light of day had 
never shone, past hideous doors of dark dens and cages, 
down cavernous flights of steps, and again up steep 
rugged ascents of stone and brick, more like dry water¬ 
falls than staircases, Defarge, the turnkey, and Jacques 
Three, linked hand and arm, went with all the speed 
they could make. Here and there, especially at first, 
the inundation started on them and swept by; but 
when they had done descending, and were winding and 
climbing up a tower, they were alone. Hemmed in here 
by the massive thickness of walls and arches, the storm 
within the fortress and without was only audible to 


THE FALL OF THE BASTILLE 


hi 


them in a dull, subdued way, as if the noise out of which 
they had come had almost destroyed their sense of hear¬ 
ing. 

The turnkey stopped at a low door, put a key in a 
clashing lock, swung the door slowly open, and said, as 
they all bent their heads and passed in: 

“One hundred and five, North Tower!” 

There was a small, heavily-grated unglazed window 
high in the wall, with a stone screen before it, so that 
the sky could be only seen by stooping low and looking 
up. There was a small chimney, heavily barred across, 
a few feet within. There was a heap of old feathery 
wood-ashes on the hearth. There were a stool, and 
table, and a straw bed. There were the four blackened 
walls, and a rusted iron ring in one of them. 

“Pass that torch slowly along these walls, that I may 
see them,” said Defarge to the turnkey. 

The man obeyed, and Defarge followed the light 
closely with his eyes. 

“Stop! —Look here, Jacques!” 

“A. M.!” croaked Jacques Three, as he read greedily. 

“Alexandre Manette,” said Defarge in his ear, follow¬ 
ing the letters with his swart forefinger, deeply engrained 
with gunpowder. “And here he wrote ‘a poor physi¬ 
cian.’ And it was he, without doubt, who scratched a 
calendar on this stone. What is that in your hand? 
A crowbar? Give it me!” 

He had still the linstock of his gun in his own hand. 
He made a sudden exchange of the two instruments, 
and turning on the wormeaten stool and table, beat 
them to pieces in a few blows. 

“Hold the light higher!” he said wrathfully, to the 


112 


FREEDOM AND DEMOCRACY 


turnkey. “Look among those fragments with care, 
Jacques. And see! Here is my knife,” throwing it to 
him; “rip open that bed and search the straw. Hold 
the light higher, you!” 

With a menacing look at the turnkey he crawled upon 
the hearth, and peering up the chimney, struck and 
prised at its sides with the crowbar, and worked at the 
iron grating across it. In a few minutes, some mortar 
and dust came dripping down, which he averted his 
face to avoid; and in it, and in the old wood-ashes, 
and in a crevice in the chimney into which his weapon 
had slipped or wrought itself, he groped with a cautious 
touch. 

“Nothing in the wood, and nothing in the straw, 
Jacques?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Let us collect them together, in the middle of the 
cell. So! Light them, you!” 

The turnkey fired the little pile, which blazed high 
and hot. Stooping again to come out at the low-arched 
door, they left it burning, and retraced their way to 
the courtyard; seeming to recover their sense of hearing 
as they came down, until they were in the raging flood 
once more. 

They found it surging and tossing, in quest of Defarge 
himself. Saint Antoine was clamorous to have its wine¬ 
shop-keeper foremost in the* guard upon the governor 
who had defended the Bastille and shot the people. 
Otherwise, the governor would not be marched to the 
Hotel de Ville for judgment. Otherwise, the governor 
would escape, and the people’s blood (suddenly of some 
value, after many years of worthlessness) be unavenged. 


THE FALL OF THE BASTILLE 113 

In the howling universe of passion and contention 
that seemed to encompass this grim old officer conspicu¬ 
ous in his grey coat and red decoration, there was but 
one quite steady figure, and that was a woman’s. “See, 
there is my husband!” she cried, pointing him out. 
“See Defarge!” She stood immovable close to the 
grim old officer, and remained immovable close to him 
through the streets, as Defarge and the rest bore him 
along; remained immovable close to him when he was 
got near his destination, and began to be struck at from 
behind; remained immovable close to him when the 
long-gathering rain of stabs and blows fell heavy; was 
so close to him when he dropped dead under it, that, 
suddenly animated, she put her foot upon his neck, and 
with her cruel knife — long ready — hewed off his head. 

The hour was come, when Saint Antoine was to exe¬ 
cute his horrible idea of hoisting up men for lamps, to 
show what he could be and do. Saint Antoine’s blood 
was up, and the blood of tyranny and domination by 
the iron hand was down — down on the steps of the 
Hotel de Ville where the governor’s body lay — down 
on the sole of the shoe of Madame Defarge where she 
had trodden on the body to steady it for mutilation. 
“Lower the lamp yonder!” cried Saint Antoine, after 
glaring round for a new means of death; “here is one of 
his soldiers to be left on guard!” The swinging senti¬ 
nel was posted, and the sea rushed on. 

The-sea of black and threatening waters, and of de¬ 
structive upheaving of wave against wave, whose depths 
were yet unfathomed and whose forces were yet un¬ 
known. The remorseless sea of turbulently swaying 
shapes, voices of vengeance, and faces hardened in the 


114 FREEDOM AND DEMOCRACY 

furnaces of suffering until the touch of pity could make 
no mark on them. 

But, in the ocean of faces where every fierce and furi¬ 
ous expression was in vivid life, there were two groups 
of faces — each seven in number — so fixedly contrasting 
with the rest, that never did sea roll w T hich bore more 
memorable wrecks with it. Seven faces of prisoners, 
suddenly released by the storm that had burst their 
tomb, were carried high over head; all scared, all lost, 
all wondering and amazed, as if the Last Day were 
come, and those who rejoiced around them were lost 
spirits. Other seven faces there were, carried higher, 
seven dead faces, whose drooping eyelids and half- 
seen eyes awaited the Last Day. Impassive faces, yet 
with a suspended — not an abolished — expression on 
them; faces, rather, in a fearful pause, as having yet 
to raise the dropped lids of the eyes, and bear witness 
with the bloodless lips, “THOU DIDST IT!” 

Seven prisoners released, seven gory heads on pikes, 
the keys of the accursed fortress of the eight strong 
towers, some discovered letters and other memorials of 
prisoners of old time, long dead of broken hearts, — such, 
and such-like, the loudly echoing footsteps of Saint An¬ 
toine escort through the Paris streets in mid-July, one 
thousand seven hundred and eighty-nine. 


Study Helps and Questions 

The Bastille was an ancient fortified castle situated in a part of 
Paris known as Saint Antoine. The castle was used as a prison, and 
during the French Revolution it was attacked by an angry mob which 
stormed its defenses, slew the governor and the guards, and set the 
prisoners free. 


THE FALL OF THE BASTILLE 


115 

The storming of the Bastille occurred on July 14, 1789. The site 
of the castle has been marked by a bronze column. 

The selection given here is taken from A Tale of Two Cities , a novel 
by Charles Dickens. 

1. Where was Saint Antoine? Give a description of the confu¬ 

sion that existed in this quarter on the morning of July 14, 
1789. How were the people arming themselves? Why? 

2. Explain why the people were aroused to such fury. Tell some¬ 

thing of the condition of their lives. 

3. Where did the angry mob gather? Who were Defarge and 

Madame Defarge? Describe them. Why were they leaders 
of the mob? 

4. The French peasant was often derisively called Jacques. Why 

did Defarge number his companions? 

5. What was the Bastille? How does the author describe it? 

Why did the people detest it? 

6. Read the vivid description of the storming of the prison. Why 

did the men and women fight so furiously? How was the 
prison fortified and by whom was it defended? What was 
the result of the attack by the mob? 

7. What did the mob do when it swept over the prison’s defenses? 

Where did Defarge go? 

8. Defarge was deeply interested in a former prisoner named 

Manette. Describe his search for Manette’s cell, and tell 
what he did when he found it. 

9. What happened when Defarge joined the mob again? Tell 

how Madame Defarge acted. 

10. How was the governor of the castle slain? What did the mob 

do to the prison guards? How did the released prisoners act? 

11. Why did the people of Saint Antoine resort to such deeds of 

violence and bloodshed? What do you think of their horrible 
vengeance? By what means could they have secured redress 
for their wrongs, and established their rights without violence 
and bloodshed? 


n6 


FREEDOM AND DEMOCRACY 


THE NECESSITY OF GOVERNMENT 
John C. Calhoun 

Society can no more exist without government, in 
one form or another, than man without society. The 
political, then, is man’s natural state. It is the one for 
which his Creator formed him, into which he is impelled 
irresistibly, and the only one in which his race can exist 
and all his faculties be fully developed. 

It follows that even the worst form of government 
is better than anarchy; and that individual liberty or 
freedom must be subordinate to whatever power may be 
necessary to protect society against anarchy within or 
destruction from without. 

Just in proportion as a people are ignorant, stupid, 
debased, corrupt, exposed to violence within and danger 
without, the power necessary for government to possess, 
in order to preserve society against anarchy and destruc¬ 
tion, becomes greater and greater, and individual liberty 
less and less, until the lowest condition is reached, when 
absolute and despotic power becomes necessary on the 
part of the government, and individual liberty becomes 
extinct. 

So, on the contrary, just as a people rise in the 
scale of intelligence, virtue, and patriotism, and the 
more perfectly they become acquainted with the nature 
of government, the ends for which it was ordered, and 
how it ought to be administered, the power necessary for 
government becomes less and less, and individual liberty 
greater and greater. 


LINCOLN 


117 


Study Helps and Questions 

1. Who was John C. Calhoun? 

2. What does he mean when he says that society cannot exist with¬ 

out government? 

3. What is anarchy? 

4. Why is even the poorest government better than anarchy? 

5. What kind of government would an ignorant and savage people 

require to protect them from anarchy? 

6. What kind of government is best for an intelligent patriotic 

people? 

7. How should people regard their duties as citizens? 


LINCOLN 

James Russell Lowell 

Nature, they say, doth dote, 

And cannot make a man 
Save on some worn-out plan, 

Repeating us by rote: 

For him her Old-World moulds aside she threw, 
And, choosing sweet clay from the breast 
Of the unexhausted West, 

With stuff untainted shaped a hero new, 

Wise, steadfast in the strength of God, and true. 

He knew to bide his time, 

And can his fame abide, 

Still patient in his simple faith sublime, 

Till the wise years decide. 

Great captains, with their guns and drums, 
Disturb our judgment for the hour, 

But at last silence comes: 

These all are gone, and, standing like a tower, 



n 8 FREEDOM AND DEMOCRACY 

Our children shall behold his fame, 

The kindly-earnest, brave, foreseeing man, 
Sagacious, patient, dreading praise, not blame, 

New birth of our new soil, the first American. 

Study Helps 

In this poem, Lowell speaks of Lincoln as “the first American.” 
Explain why he is so called. How does the poet describe Lincoln? 
Read the biography of Lincoln, and then read the poem and see if 
you think that Lincoln deserves the praise bestowed upon him. 


THE TYPICAL AMERICAN 
Henry Woodfin Grady 

It has been said that the typical American has yet 
to come. Let me tell you that he has already come. 
Great types, like valuable plants, are slow to flower and 
fruit. But from the union of these colonies, Puritans 
and Cavaliers, from the straightening of their purposes 
and the crossing of their blood, slow perfecting through 
a century, came he who stands as the first typical Ameri¬ 
can, the first who comprehended within himself all the 
strength and gentleness, all the majesty and grace, of 
this Republic, Abraham Lincoln. 

He was the sum of Puritan and Cavalier, for in his 
ardent nature were fused the virtues of both, and in 
the depths of his great soul the faults of both were 
lost. He was greater than Puritan, greater than Cava¬ 
lier, in that he was American, and that in his honest 
form were first gathered the vast and thrilling forces of 
his ideal government, charging it with such tremendous 



REVERENCE FOR THE LAWS 


119 

meaning and elevating it above human suffering that 
martyrdom, though infamously aimed, came as a fitting 
crown to a life consecrated from the cradle to human 
liberty. Let us, each cherishing the traditions and 
honoring his fathers, build with reverent hands to the 
type of this simple but sublime life, in which all types 
are honored, and in our common glory as Americans 
there will be plenty and to spare for your forefathers 
and for mine. 

Study Helps and Questions 

1. What is meant by “the typical American”? 

2. Who were the Puritans? 

3. Who were the Cavaliers? 

4. What good qualities did each contribute to the making of the 

Republic? 

5. What faults did each possess? 

6. How did the character of Lincoln reflect the best qualities of both 

Puritan and Cavalier? 

7. Explain why Lincoln represents a fine type of the true American. 


REVERENCE FOR THE LAWS 

Abraham Lincoln 

Let every American , every lover of liberty , every well- 
wisher to his posterity swear by the blood of the Revolution, 
never to violate in the least particular the laws of the coun¬ 
try, and never to tolerate their violation by others. As the 
patriots of seventy-six did to the support of the Declaration 
of Independence , so to the support of the Constitution and 
laws let every American pledge his life, his property, and 
his sacred honor. — Let every man remember that to 


120 


FREEDOM AND DEMOCRACY 


violate the law is to trample on the blood of his father, 
and to tear the charter of his own and his children’s 
liberty. Let reverence for the laws be breathed by every 
American mother to the lisping babe that prattles on 
her lap; let it be taught in schools, in seminaries, and in 
colleges; let it be written in primers, spelling-books, and 
in almanacs; let it be preached from the pulpit, pro¬ 
claimed in legislative halls, and enforced in courts of 
justice. And, in short , let it become the political religion 
of the nation; and let the old and the young, the rich and 
the poor, the grave and the gay of all sexes and tongues 
and colors and conditions, sacrifice unceasingly upon its 
altars. 

While ever a state of feeling such as this shall univer¬ 
sally or even very generally prevail throughout the 
nation, vain will be every effort, and fruitless every at¬ 
tempt, to subvert our national freedom. 

Passion has helped us, but can do so no more. It will 
in future be our enemy. Reason , — cold, calculating, un¬ 
impassioned reason — must furnish all the material for our 
future support and defense. Let those materials be moulded 
into general intelligence, sound morality, and, in particular, 
a reverence for the Constitution and laws; and that we 
improved to the last, that we remained free to the last, that 
we revered his name to the last, that during his long sleep 
we permitted no hostile foot to pass over or to desecrate his 
resting-place, shall be that which to learn, the last trump 
shall awaken our Washington. 

Upon these let the proud fabric of freedom rest, as the 
rock of its basis; and as truly as has been said of the 



SAYINGS OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN 


I 2 I 


only greater institution, “the gates of hell shall not pre¬ 
vail against it.” 

Study Helps 

Lincoln calls reverence for the laws “the political religion of the 
nation.” Explain what he means by this expression. Read carefully 
what he says with reference to the laws of our country. Note how he 
speaks of the duty of Americans to support the Constitution. On 
what must our freedom rest? 

In this address, Lincoln has spoken to all Americans of whatever age 
or condition. What lessons to guide you have you learned from this 
speech? 


SAYINGS OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN 

Learn the laws and obey them. 

I am nothing, but truth is everything. 

Killing the dog does not cure the bite. 

Give us a little more light, and a little less noise. 

It is not best to swap horses while crossing a stream. 

He sticks through thick and thin — I admire such a 
man. 

Success does not so much depend on external help 
as on self-reliance. 

It is better only sometimes to be right than at all 
times to be wrong. 

When you have an elephant on hand, and he wants 
to run away, — better let him run. 

Gold is good in its place; but living, brave, and 
patriotic men are better than gold. 

My experience and observation have been that those 
who promise the most do the least. 



122 


FREEDOM AND DEMOCRACY 


O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN! 

[On the Death of President Lincoln, April 15, 1865] 

Walt Whitman 

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, 

The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is 
won, 

The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, 
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; 
But O heart! heart! heart! 

O the bleeding drops of red, 

Where on the deck my Captain lies, 

Fallen cold and dead. 

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells; 

Rise up — for you the flag is flung — for you the bugle trills, 
For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths — for you the shores 
a-crowding, 

For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; 
Here Captain! dear father! 

This arm beneath your head! 

It is some dream that on the deck 
You’ve fallen cold and dead. 

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still; 

My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will: 
The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed and 
done, 

From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won; 
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells! 

But I, with mournful tread, 

Walk the deck my Captain lies, 

Fallen cold and dead. 


MAKING THE WORLD 


123 


Study Helps and Questions 

Abraham Lincoln was assassinated while attending a play in a 
theater at Washington, just at the close of the Civil War. His death 
was a terrible loss to the entire country, to the South as well as to the 
North. This poem compares the country to a ship, with Lincoln as 
its captain. The ship comes safely into the harbor, but the captain 
is slain as the port is reached. 

1. To what does the poet refer in the expression “our fearful trip 

is done”? 

2. How does he represent the feelings of the people on the arrival 

of the ship? 

3. Why are they rejoicing? 

4. What honors await the captain? 

5. How is the death of the captain pictured? 

6. In what words does the poet express grief at the loss of the 

captain? 

Note the contrast in the last half of each stanza. 


MAKING THE WORLD SAFE FOR 
DEMOCRACY 1 

Woodrow Wilson 

Our object is to vindicate the principles of peace and 
justice in the life of the world as against selfish and au¬ 
tocratic power, and to set up amongst the really free and 
self-governed peoples of the world such a concert of pur¬ 
pose and of action as will henceforth ensure the observ¬ 
ance of those principles. Neutrality is no longer feasible 
or desirable where the peace of the world is involved and 
the freedom of its peoples, and the menace to that peace 
and freedom lies in the existence of autocratic govern- 
1 Extract from War Message to Congress. 



124 


FREEDOM AND DEMOCRACY 


ments backed by organized force which is controlled 
wholly by their will, not by the will of their people. 
We have seen the last of neutrality in such circumstances. 
We are at the beginning of an age in which it will be 
insisted that the same standards of conduct and of re¬ 
sponsibility for wrong done shall be observed among 
nations and their governments that are observed among 
the individual citizens of civilized states. 

We have no quarrel with the German people. We 
have no feeling towards them but one of sympathy and 
friendship. It was not upon their impulse that their 
government acted in entering this war. It was not with 
their previous knowledge or approval. It was a war de¬ 
termined upon as wars used to be determined upon in 
the old, unhappy days when peoples were nowhere con¬ 
sulted by their rulers and wars were provoked and 
waged in the interest of dynasties or of little groups of 
ambitious men who were accustomed to use their fellow- 
men as pawns and tools. Self-governed nations do not 
fill their neighbor states with spies or set the course of 
intrigue to bring about some critical posture of affairs 
which will give them an opportunity to strike and make 
conquest. Such designs can be successfully worked out 
only under cover and where no one has the right to ask 
questions. Cunningly contrived plans of deception or 
aggression, carried, it may be, from generation to genera¬ 
tion, can be worked out and kept from the light only 
within the privacy of courts or behind the carefully 
guarded confidences of a narrow and privileged class. 
They are happily impossible where public opinion com¬ 
mands and insists upon full information concerning all 
the nation’s affairs. 


MAKING THE WORLD 


125 


A steadfast concert for peace can never be maintained 
except by a partnership of democratic nations. No 
autocratic government could be trusted to keep faith 
within it or observe its covenants. It must be a league 
of honor, a partnership of opinion. Intrigue would eat 
its vitals away; the plottings of inner circles who could 
plan what they would and render account to no one 
would be a corruption seated at its very heart. Only 
free peoples can hold their purpose and their honor 
steady to a common end and prefer the interests of 
mankind to any narrow interest of their own. . . . 

We are accepting this challenge of hostile purpose be¬ 
cause we know that in such a government, following 
such methods, we can never have a friend; and that in 
the presence of its organized power, always lying in wait 
to accomplish we know not what purpose, there can be 
no assured security for the democratic governments of 
the world. We are now about to accept gauge of battle 
with this natural foe to liberty and shall, if necessary, 
spend the whole force of the nation to check and nullify 
its pretensions and its power. We are glad, now that 
we see the facts with no veil of false pretense about 
them, to fight thus for the ultimate peace of the world 
and for the liberation of its peoples, the German peoples 
included: for the rights of nations great and small and 
the privilege of men everywhere to choose their way of 
life and of obedience. The world must be made safe 
for democracy. Its peace must be planted upon the 
tested foundations of political liberty. We have no sel¬ 
fish ends to serve. We desire no conquest, no dominion. 
We seek no indemnities for ourselves, no material com¬ 
pensation for the sacrifices we shall freely make. We are 


126 


FREEDOM AND DEMOCRACY 


but one of the champions of the rights of mankind. We 
shall be satisfied when those rights have been made as 
secure as the faith and the freedom of nations can make 
them. 

Just because we fight without rancour and without 
selfish object, seeking nothing for ourselves but what 
we shall wish to share with all free peoples, we shall, I 
feel confident, conduct our operations as belligerents 
without passion, and ourselves observe with proud punc¬ 
tilio the principles of right and of fair play we profess 
to be fighting for. . . . 

It is a distressing and oppressive duty, Gentlemen of 
the Congress, which I have performed in thus addressing 
you. There are, it may be, many months of fiery trial 
and sacrifice ahead of us. It is a fearful thing to lead 
this great peaceful people into war, into the most terrible 
and disastrous of all wars, civilization itself seeming to 
be in the balance. But the right is more precious than 
peace, and we shall fight for the things which we have 
always carried nearest our hearts — for democracy, for 
the right of those who submit to authority to have a 
voice in their own governments, for the rights and liber¬ 
ties of small nations, for a universal dominion of right 
by such a concert of free peoples as shall bring peace 
and safety to all nations and make the world itself at 
last free. To such a task we can dedicate our lives and 
our fortunes, everything that we are and everything 
that we have, with the pride of those who know that the 
day has come when America is privileged to spend her 
blood and her might for the principles that gave her 
birth and happiness and the peace which she has treas¬ 
ured. God helping her, she can do no other 


FROM ALIEN TO CITIZEN 


127 


Study Helps and Questions 

Woodrow Wilson’s famous War Message to Congress was de¬ 
livered on the evening of April 2, 1917, in the Hall of Representatives. 
The members of the Supreme Court of the United States and the dip¬ 
lomatic corps were present at the joint session of the House and Senate. 
Before this brilliant assemblage, the President delivered his famous 
speech, reviewing our relations with Germany, and expressing in clear 
and forcible language the attitude of a pure democracy towards the life 
of the world. Read carefully the extract from the famous message 
that is given here. Note how he speaks of our object in entering the 
war, of our attitude towards the German people as distinguished from 
the German Government, of a democracy as opposed to an autocratic 
government. It is a speech that breathes forth the spirit of America. 


FROM ALIEN TO CITIZEN 
Edward A. Steiner 

On a certain never-to-be-forgotten day I walked to 
the county seat, about seven miles away, to get my 
papers. What seemed to- me should be a sacred rite 
proved to be an uninspiring performance. I entered a 
dingy office where a commonplace man, chewing tobacco, 
mumbled an oath which I repeated. Then he handed 
me a document for which I paid two dollars. When I 
held the long-coveted paper in my hands, the inspiring 
moment came, but it transpired in my own soul. 

“Fellow citizen with the saints! Fellow citizen with 
the saints!” I repeated it many times all to myself. 

I scarcely noticed the straight, monotonous seven 
miles back. I was traveling a much longer road; I was 
reviewing my whole life. Far away across the ocean I 



128 


FREEDOM AND DEMOCRACY 


saw a little village in the Carpathian Mountains, with its 
conglomerate of warring races among which I had lived, 
a despised “Jew boy.” Loving them all, I was hated 
by all. 

I heard the flogging of the poor Slovak peasants, the 
agonized cries of Jewish men and women incarcerated 
in their homes, while these same peasants, inflamed by 
alcohol but still more by prejudice, were breaking win¬ 
dows and burning down houses. 

I saw myself growing into boyhood more and more 
separated from my playmates, until I lived, a youth 
without friends, growing into a “man without a coun¬ 
try.” 

Again I felt the desolation of the voyage on the sea, 
relived the sweatshop in New York, the hard labor in 
mill and mine, tramped across the plains and suffered 
anew all the agonies of the homeless, hungry days in 
Chicago. Then came the time when faith began to grow 
and the Christ became real: the reaction from a rigid 
theology and a distasteful, dogmatic atmosphere. After 
that, once more a stranger in a strange but holy place, 
and then a “fellow citizen with the saints!” “Fellow 
citizen with the saints! ” 

It is no wonder that strangers like myself love this 
country, and love it, perhaps, as the native never can. 
Frequently I have wished for the careless American 
citizen, who holds his franchise cheap, an experience like 
my own, that he might know the value of a freeman’s 
birthright. It would be a glorious experience, I am sure, 
to feel that transition from subject to citizen, from 
scarcely being permitted to say “I,” to those collective 
words: “We, fellow citizens.” 


THE MEN TO MAKE A STATE 


129 


Study Helps and Questions 

1. What is meant by the term “alien”? 

2. How do aliens become citizens of America? 

3. Tell how the alien mentioned here became a citizen of the United 

States. 

4. What had been his experience in the land of his birth? 

5. How does he speak of his early experiences in America? 

6. What were his feelings on becoming an American citizen? 

7. What lessons might careless American citizens learn from this 

experience? 


THE MEN TO MAKE A STATE 

George Washington Doane 

The men , to make a State , must be intelligent men. The 
right of suffrage is a fearful thing. It calls for wisdom, 
and discretion, and intelligence, of no ordinary standard. 
It takes in, at every exercise, the interests of all the na¬ 
tion. Its results reach forward through time into eter¬ 
nity. Its discharge must be accounted for among the 
dread responsibilities of the great day of judgment. 
Who will go to it blindly? Who will go to it passion¬ 
ately? Who will go to it as a sycophant, a tool, a slave? 
How many do! These are not the men to make a 
state. 

The men , to make a State , must be honest. I do not 
mean men that would never steal. I do not mean men 
that would scorn to cheat in making change. I mean 
men with a single tongue. I mean men that consider 
always what is right, and do it at whatever cost. I 
mean men whom no king on earth can buy. Men that 



130 


FREEDOM AND DEMOCRACY 


are in the market for the highest bidder; men that 
make politics their trade, and look to office for a living; 
men that will crawl, where they cannot climb, — these 
are not the men to make a state. 

The men, to make a State, must be brave men. I mean 
the men that walk with open face and unprotected 
breast. I mean the men that do, but do not talk. I 
mean the men that dare to stand alone. I mean the 
men that are to-day where they were yesterday, and will 
be there to-morrow. I mean the men that can stand 
still and take the storm. I mean the men that are 
afraid to kill, but not afraid to die. The man that 
calls hard names and uses threats; the man that stabs, 
in secret, with his tongue or with his pen; the man that 
moves a mob to deeds of violence and self-destruction; 
the man that freely offers his last drop of blood, but 
never sheds the first, — these are not the men to make 
a state. 

The men, to make a State, must be religious men. To 

leave God out of states, is to be atheists. I do not 

mean that men must cant. I do not mean that men 

must wear long faces. I do not mean that men must 

talk of conscience, while they take your spoons. I speak 
of men who have it in their heart as well as on their 
brow. The men that own no future, the men that 
trample on the Bible, the men that never pray, are not 
the men to make a state. 

The men, to make a State, are made by faith. A man 
that has no faith is so much flesh. His heart is a mus¬ 
cle; nothing more. He has no past, for reverence; no 
future, for reliance. Such men can never make a state. 
There must be faith to look through clouds and storms 


THE MEN TO MAKE A STATE 131 

up to the sun that shines as cheerily, on high, as on crea¬ 
tion’s morn. There must be faith that can afford to 
sink the present in the future; and let time go, in its 
strong grasp upon eternity. This is the way that men 
are made, to make a state. 

The men, to make a State , are made by self-denial. The 
willow dallies with the water, draws its waves up in con¬ 
tinual pulses of refreshment and delight; and is a willow, 
after all. An acorn has been loosened, some autumnal 
morning, by a squirrel’s foot. It finds a nest in some 
rude cleft of an old granite rock, where there is scarcely 
earth to cover it. It knows no shelter, and it feels no 
shade. It asks no favor, and gives none. It grapples 
with the rock. It crowds up towards the sun. It is 
an oak. It has been seventy years an oak. It will be 
an oak for seven times seventy years; unless you need 
a man-of-war to thunder at the foe that shows a flag 
upon the shore, where freemen dwell; and then you 
take no willow in its daintiness and gracefulness; but 
that old, hardy, storm-stayed and storm-strengthened 
oak. So are the men made that will make a state. 

The men, to make a State, are themselves made by 
obedience. Obedience is the health of human hearts: 
obedience to God; obedience to father and to mother, 
who are, to children, in the place of God; obedience to 
teachers and to masters, who are in the place of father 
and of mother; obedience to spiritual pastors, who are 
God’s ministers; and to the powers that be, which are 
ordained of God. Obedience is but self-government 
in action; and he can never govern man who does 
not govern first himself. Only such men can make a 
state. 


1 3 2 


FREEDOM AND DEMOCRACY 


Study Helps 

In this selection the fundamental virtues of good citizenship have 
been set down clearly and concisely. 

What qualities must a man have to be a good citizen? Read the 
explanation the author gives. It will help you to understand your 
duty to your country. 


THE DUTY OF AN AMERICAN 
Theodore Roosevelt 

We know that self-government is difficult. We know 
that no people needs such high traits of character as that 
people which seeks to govern its affairs aright through 
the freely expressed will of the freemen who compose it. 
But we have faith that we shall not prove false to the 
memories of the men of the mighty past. They did 
their work; they left us the splendid heritage we now 
enjoy. We in our turn have an assured confidence that 
we shall be able to leave this heritage unwasted, and en¬ 
larged, to our children and our children’s children. To 
do so, we must show not merely in great crises but in the 
everyday affairs of life, the qualities of practical intelli¬ 
gence, of courage, of hardihood and endurance, and, above 
all, the power of devotion to a lofty ideal, which made 
great the men who founded this republic in the days of 
Washington, which made great the men who preserved 
this republic in the days of Abraham Lincoln. 



A NATION’S BUILDERS 


133 


A NATION’S BUILDERS 

Ralph Waldo Emerson 

Not gold, but only men can make 
A people great and strong — 

Men who, for truth and honor’s sake, 
Stand fast and suffer long. 

Brave men, who work while others sleep, 
Who dare while others fly — 

They build a nation’s pillars deep 
And lift them to the sky. 










ECONOMY AND INDUSTRY 


No man is born into the world whose work 
Is not bom with him; there is always work, 

And tools to work withal, for those who will; 

And blessed are the horny hands of toil! 

The busy world shoves angrily aside 
The man who stands with arms akimbo set, 

Until occasion tells him what to do; 

And he who waits to have his task marked out 
Shall die and leave his errand unfulfilled. 

' — James Russell Lowell 


ECONOMY AND INDUSTRY 


Foreword 

If the World War had taught us nothing else but the “practice of 
thrift,” it had almost been worth our sacrifices. As a nation we are 
extravagant. The very abundance of our resources has made us a 
wasteful people. It has been said that nations could have been fed 
with what we threw away. But when starving nations looked to us 
for food, we proved that not only are we an industrious people, but 
we are also an economical people. The practice of thrift became a 
necessity of war in order that every bit of all our vast resources might 
go to the cause of humanity. 

The teaching of thrift is now a part of the course of study in all 
our schools, and the valuable lessons learned are a part not only of 
our present life but of all our future. The youth who learns in school 
to make the most of his time and opportunities will carry these valu¬ 
able lessons into the business and professional world, and will become 
a factor in the up-building of the social and economic life of his people. 
We have learned the truth of the lessons taught us by our own Ben¬ 
jamin Franklin. 











































* 


OPPORTUNITY 


John James Ingalls 

Master of human destinies am I! 

Fame, love, and fortune on my footsteps wait. 
Cities and fields I walk; I penetrate 
Deserts and seas remote; and, passing by 
Hovel and mart and palace, soon or late 
I knock unbidden once at every gate! 

If sleeping, wake; if feasting, rise before 
I turn away. It is the hour of fate, 

And they who follow me reach every state 
Mortals desire, and conquer every foe 
Save death; but those who doubt or hesitate, 
Condemned to failure, penury, and woe, 

Seek me in vain and uselessly implore; 

I answer not, and I return no more. 


Question not, but live and labor 
Till your goal be won; 

Helping every feeble neighbor, 

Seeking help from none. 

Life is mostly fioth and bubble, 

Two things stand like stone: 

Kindness in another’s trouble, 

Courage in your own. — Anon . 

137 



138 


ECONOMY AND INDUSTRY 


WORK 

Thomas Carlyle 

All true Work is sacred. In all true Work, were it 
but true hand-labor, there is something of divineness. 
Labor, wide as the Earth, has its summit in Heaven. 
Sweat of the brow; and up from that to sweat of the 
brain, sweat of the heart; which includes all Kepler cal¬ 
culations, Newton meditations, all Sciences, all spoken 
Epics, all acted Heroisms, Martyrdoms. 0 brother, if 
this is not “worship,” then I say, the more pity for 
worship; for this is the noblest thing yet discovered 
under God’s sky. Who art thou that complainest of 
thy life of toil? Complain not. Look up, my wearied 
brother; see thy fellow-workmen there, in God’s Eter¬ 
nity; surviving there, they alone surviving; sacred Band 
of the Immortals, celestial Bodyguard of the Empire 
of Mankind. Even in the weak Human Memory they 
survive so long, as saints, as heroes, as gods; they 
alone surviving; peopling, they alone, the unmeasured 
solitudes of Time! 

To thee, Heaven, though severe, is not unkind; 
Heaven is kind, — as a noble Mother; as that Spartan 
Mother, saying while she gave her son his shield, “With 
it, my son, or upon it!” Thou too shalt return home 
in honor; to thy far-distant Home, in honor; doubt it 
not, — if in the battle thou keep thy shield! Thou, in 
the Eternities and deepest Death-kingdoms, art not an 
alien; thou everywhere art a denizen! Complain not; 
the very Spartans did not complain/ 


FOR A’ THAT AND A’ THAT 


139 


FOR A’ THAT AND A’ THAT 

Robert Burns 

Is there for honest poverty, 

That hangs his head, and a’ that? 

The coward slave, we pass him by, 

We dare be poor for a’ that! 

For a’ that, and a’ that, 

Our toil’s obscure, and a’ that; 

The rank is but the guinea’s stamp; 

The man’s the gowd for a’ that! 

What though on hamely fare we dine, 

Wear hodden grey, and a’ that; 

Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine, 
A man’s a man for a’ that! 

For a’ that, and a’ that, 

Their tinsel show, and a’ that; 

The honest man, though e’er sae poor, 

Is king o’ men for a’ that! 

Ye see yon birkie ca’d a lord, 

Wha struts and stares, and a’ that! 

Though thousands worship at his word, 
He’s but a coof for a’ that: 

For a’ that, and a’ that, 

His riband, star, and a’ that, 

The man of independent mind, 

He looks and laughs at a’ that! 

A prince can make a belted knight, 

A marquis, duke, and a’ that; 

But an honest man’s aboon his might, 

Guid faith, he maunna fa’ that! 


140 


ECONOMY AND INDUSTRY 


For a’ that, and a 5 that, 

Their dignities and a’ that, 

The pith o’ sense, and pride o’ worth, 

Are higher ranks than a’ that. 

Then let us pray that come it may — 

As come it will, for a’ that — 

That sense and worth, o’er a’ the earth, 

May bear the gree, and a’ that! 

For a’ that, and a’ that, 

It’s cornin’ yet for a’ that; 

That man to man, the world o’er, 

Shall brothers be for a’ that! 

Study Helps and Questions 

Robert Burns was the son of a poor Scottish farmer. His early life 
was one of poverty and toil, with but little chance to go to school; but 
despite these hardships, he got an education from his sympathetic and 
intelligent interest in the world about him, and by reading over and 
over the few books he had. Then too his father and mother, when 
the day’s work was over, would gather the children around the fireside 
and sing them the old Scotch songs and tell them tales. This made a 
deep impression on the mind of young Burns, and woke in his heart a 
love for the simple and beautiful things in life. He wrote verses about 
life as he saw it — the little daisy overturned by his plow, the field 
mouse in the furrow, the simple peasant folk with their loves and sor¬ 
rows — all these he wrote about in such simple style that he is called 
Scotland’s greatest poet. 

Burns was truly a poet of the people, and his poem, “A Man’s a 
Man for A’ That,” breathes forth a spirit of democracy that is worthy 
of our own land. 

1. Should any one be ashamed of “honest poverty”? 

2. Burns compares man to a coin, the rank being determined by 

the stamp on the coin, but all made of the same metal. How 
does he express this thought in the poem? 

3. To what class of people does the poet refer when he speaks of 

“hamely fare” and “hodden grey”? Explain what these 
terms mean. 


FRANKLIN THRIFTOGRAMS 


141 

4. What is meant by the expression “A man’s a man for a’ that”? 

How is an honest man to be regarded? 

5. How does the poet speak of a lord? 

6. How does the honest man compare with the man of title? 

7. What democratic ideal does the poet express in the last stanza? 

a’, all; birkie, a spirited fellow; aboon, above; guid, good; gowd, 
gold; hamely, homely, simple; hodden-grey, coarse gray cloth; gie, give; 
coof, stupid fellow; bear the gree, must succeed; warld, world; wha, 
who; mak, make; sae, so; mauna fa ’, must not attempt; ca’d, called. 


THE CHOIR INVISIBLE 
George Eliot 

May I reach 

That purest Heaven, — be to other souls 
The cup of strength in some great agony, 
Enkindle generous ardor, feed pure love, 

Beget the smiles that have no cruelty, 

Be the sweet presence of a good diffused, 

And in diffusion evermore intense! 

So shall I join the choir invisible, 

Whose music is the gladness of the world. 


FRANKLIN THRIFTOGRAMS 

Every little makes a mickle. 

Be industrious and free; be frugal and free. 

All things are cheap to the saving, dear to the waste¬ 
ful. 

Waste neither time nor money, but make the best use 
of both. 

Remember that money is of the prolific, generating 
nature. 




142 


ECONOMY AND INDUSTRY 


Money can beget money, and its offspring can beget 
more. 

Beware of small expenses; a small leak will sink a 
great ship. 

Buy what thou has no need of, and ere long thou shalt 
sell thy necessaries. 

For age and want save while you may; 

No morning sun lasts a whole day. 

The borrower is a slave to the lender and the debtor 
to the creditor. 

He that murders a pound [five dollars] destroys all 
that it might have produced, even scores of pounds. 

He that loses five shillings not only loses that sum, but 
all the advantage that might be made by turning it deal¬ 
ing, which by the time that a young man becomes old 
will amount to a considerable sum of money. 

Remember that time is money. He that can earn ten 
shillings a day by his labor, and sits idle one half that 
day, though he spends but six pence during his idleness, 
has really spent or thrown away five shillings beside. 

He that by the plough would thrive, 

Himself must either hold or drive. 


TOO DEAR FOR THE WHISTLE 
Benjamin Franklin 

When I was a child of seven years old, my friends, 
on a holiday, filled my pocket with coppers. I went 
directly to a shop where they sold toys for children; 
and being charmed with the sound of a whistle, that I 



TOO DEAR FOR THE WHISTLE 


143 


met by the way, in the hands of another boy, I volun¬ 
tarily gave all my money for one. I then came home, 
and went whistling all over the house, much pleased 
with my whistle, but disturbing all the family. My 
brothers, and sisters, and cousins, understanding the 
bargain I had made, told me I had given four times as 
much for it as it was worth; put me in mind of what 
good things I might have bought with the rest of the 
money, and laughed at me so much for my folly that I 
cried with vexation; and the reflection gave me more 
chagrin than the whistle gave me pleasure. 

This, however, was afterwards of use to me, for the 
impression continued on my mind, so that often, when 
I was tempted to buy some unnecessary thing, I said 
to myself, “Don’t give too much for the whistle,” and 
I saved my money. As I grew up, came into the world, 
and observed the actions of men, I thought I met with 
many, very many, “who gave too much for the whistle.” 
When I saw one too ambitious of court favor, sacri¬ 
ficing his time in attendance on levees, his repose, his 
liberty, his virtue, and perhaps friends, to attain it, I 
have said to myself — “This man gives too much for his 
whistle.” When I saw another fond of popularity, con¬ 
stantly employing himself in political bustles, neglecting 
his own affairs, and ruining them by neglect, “He pays, 
indeed,” said I, “too dear for his whistle.” 

If I knew a miser who gave up every kind of com¬ 
fortable living, all the pleasure of doing good to others, 
all the esteem of his fellow-citizens, and the joys of 
benevolent friendship, for the sake of accumulating 
wealth —“Poor man,” said I, “you pay too dear for 
your whistle.” When I met a man of pleasure, sac- 


144 


ECONOMY AND INDUSTRY 


rificing every laudable improvement of the mind, or of 
his fortune, to mere corporeal sensation, and ruining his 
health in its pursuit, “Mistaken man/’ said I, “you are 
providing pain for yourself, instead of pleasure; you are 
paying too dear for your whistle.” If I see one fond 
of appearance or fine clothes, fine houses, fine furniture, 
fine equipages, all above his fortune, for which he con¬ 
tracts debts, “Alas,” say I, “he has paid dear, very dear, 
for his whistle.” In short, the miseries of mankind are 
largely due to their false estimate of things, — to giv¬ 
ing “too much for their whistles.” 

Study Helps and Questions 

1. Tell the story of how Franklin bought his whistle. 

2. What did he do with it? 

3. What was the result of the bargain? 

4. What lesson did Franklin learn from the purchase of the whistle? 

5. When Franklin grew up, he observed many men giving “too 

much for their whistles.” State some ways in which they did 
this. 

6. What was the result of their actions? 

7. What do you understand by the expression “too dear for his 

whistle”? 


POOR RICHARD’S SAYINGS 

Benjamin Franklin 

If pride leads the van, beggary brings up the rear. 
He that can travel well afoot, keeps a good horse. 
Some men grow mad by studying much to know; 
but who grows mad by studying good to grow? 

Take this remark from Richard poor and lame, — 
Whate’er’s begun in anger ends in shame. 



POOR RICHARD’S SAYINGS 


145 


The worst wheel of the cart makes the most noise. 

He that falls in love with himself will have no rivals. 

Against diseases, know the strongest fence is the 
defensive virtue, abstinence. 

If you would have a faithful servant and one that 
you like, serve yourself. 

A mob’s a monster; with heads enough, but no brains. 

The discontented man finds no easy chair. 

God helps them that help themselves. 

Three can keep a secret if two of them are dead. 

Diligence is the mother of good luck. 

When Prosperity was well mounted, she let go the 
bridle, and soon came tumbling out of the saddle. 

A little neglect may breed great mischief: for want 
of a nail the shoe was lost, and for want of a shoe the 
horse was lost, and for want of a horse the rider was 
lost. 

A false friend and a shadow attend only while the sun 
shines. 

Plow deep while sluggards sleep, and you shall have 
corn to sell and to keep. 

Old boys have playthings as well as young ones: the 
difference is only in the price. 

If you would keep your secret from an enemy, tell it 
not to a friend. 

One to-day is worth two to-morrows. 

What maintains one vice would bring up two children. 

It is foolish to lay out money in a purchase of re¬ 
pentance. 

If you would know the value of money, go and try 
to borrow some: for he that goes a-borrowing goes 
a-sorrowing. 


ECONOMY AND INDUSTRY 


146 

Pride breakfasted with Plenty, dined with Poverty, 
and supped with Contempt. 

Fly pleasures and they will follow you. 

Creditors have better memories than debtors: creditors 
are a. superstitious sect, — great observers of set days 
and times. 

Sloth makes all things difficult: industry, all easy. 
But after all, do not depend too much upon your own 
industry and frugality and prudence, though excellent 
things: for they may all be blasted without the blessing 
of Heaven. 


THE DEMOCRATIC IDEAL OF LABOR 
Orville Dewey 

Ashamed to toil art thou? Ashamed of thy dingy 
workshop and dusty labor field; of thy hard hand, 
scarred with service more honorable than that of war; 
of thy soiled and weather-stained garments, on which 
Mother Nature has stamped, ’midst sun and rain, ’midst 
fire and steam, her own heraldic honors? Ashamed of 
these tokens and titles, and envious of the flaunting 
robes of imbecile idleness and vanity? It is treason to 
Nature; it is impiety to Heaven; it is breaking Heaven’s 
great ordinance. Toil, I repeat — Toil, either of the 
brain, of the heart, or of the hand, is the only true man¬ 
hood, the only true nobility! 



OPPORTUNITY 


147 


OPPORTUNITY 

Edward Rowland Sill 

This I beheld, or dreamed it in a dream: — 

There spread a cloud of dust along a plain; 

And underneath the cloud, or in it, raged 
A furious battle, and men yelled, and swords 

Shocked upon swords and shields. A prince’s banner 
Wavered, then staggered backward, hemmed by foes. 
A craven hung along the battle’s edge, 

And thought, “Had I a sword of keener steel — 

That blue blade that the king’s son bears — but this 
Blunt thing— !” he snapt and flung it from his hand 
And lowering crept away and left the field. 

Then came the king’s son, wounded, sore bestead, 

And weaponless, and saw the broken sword, 
Hilt-buried in the dry and trodden sand, 

And ran and snatched it; and with battle shout 
Lifted afresh he hewed his enemy down, 

And saved a great cause that heroic day. 


THE MONKEY AND THE PEAS 
Leon Tolstoy 

A monkey was carrying two handfuls of peas. One 
little pea dropped out. He tried to pick it up, and 
spilled twenty. He tried to pick up the twenty, and 
spilled them all. Then he lost his temper, scattered 
the peas in all directions, and ran away 



148 


ECONOMY AND INDUSTRY 


WANTED 
J. G. Holland 

God give us men! The time demands 

Strong minds, great hearts, true faith, and willing hands: 

Men whom the lust of office does not kill; 

Men whom the spoils of office cannot buy; 

Men who possess opinions and a will; 

Men who have honor; men who will not lie; 

Men who can stand before a demagogue 

And damn his treacherous flatteries without winking; 
Tall men, sun-crowned, who live above the fog 
In public duty and in private thinking. 

For while the rabble with their thumb-worn creeds, 
Their large professions and their little deeds, 

Mingle in selfish strife, lo! Freedom weeps! 

Wrong rules the land, and waiting Justice sleeps! 


A man passes for that he is worth. Very idle is all 
curiosity concerning other people’s estimate of us, and all 
fear of remaining unknown is not less so. . . . In every 
troop of boys that whoop and run in each yard and 
square, a new-comer is as well and accurately weighed 
in the course of a few days, and stamped with his right 
number, as if he had undergone a formal trial of his 
strength, speed and temper. —Ralph Waldo Emerson. 


Perseverance is a great element of success. If you 
only knock long enough and loud enough at the gate, 
you are sure to wake up somebody. — Longfellow. 




TODAY 


T 49 


TODAY 

Thomas Carlyle 

So here hath been dawning 
Another blue day: 

Think! wilt thou let it 
Slip useless away? 

Out of Eternity 

This new day is born; 

Into Eternity, 

At night will return. 

Behold it aforetime 
No eye ever did; 

So soon it forever 
From all eyes is hid. 

Here hath been dawning 
Another blue day; 

Think! wilt thou let it 
Slip useless away? 


Instead of saying that man is the creature of cir¬ 
cumstances, it would be nearer the mark to say that 
man is the architect of circumstances. It is character 
which builds an existence out of circumstances. Our 
strength is measured by our plastic power. From the 
same materials one man builds palaces, another hovels; 
one warehouses, another villas; bricks and mortar are 
mortar and bricks, until the architect can make them 
something else. — Thomas Carlyle 



ECONOMY AND INDUSTRY 


150 


OPPORTUNITY 
Judge Walter Malone 

They do me wrong who say I come no more, 

When once I knock and fail to find you in; 

For every day I stand outside your door 
And bid you wake, and rise to fight and win. 

Wail not for precious chances passed away, 

Weep not for golden ages on the wane; 

Each night I burn the records of the day, 

At sunrise every soul is born again. 

Laugh like a boy at splendors that have sped, 

To vanished joys be blind and deaf and dumb; 

My judgments seal the dead past with its dead, 

But never bind a moment yet to come. 

Though deep in mire, wring not your hands and weep; 
I lend my arm to all who say, “I can”; 

No shamefaced outcast ever sank so deep 
But yet might rise and yet become a man. 


In every part and corner of our life, to lose one’s self 
is to be a gainer, to forget one’s self is to be happy. 

— Robert Louis Stevenson 


The years 

Have taught some sweet, some bitter lessons, none 
Wiser than this, — to spend in all things else, 

But of old friends to be most miserly. — J. R. Lowell. 




A MESSAGE TO GARCIA 


I 5 i 


A MESSAGE TO GARCIA 
Elbert Hubbard 

When war broke out between Spain and the United 
States, it was very necessary to communicate quickly 
with the leader of the Insurgents. Garcia was some¬ 
where in the mountain fastnesses of Cuba — no one 
knew where. No mail nor telegraph message could 
reach him. The President must secure his cooperation, 
and quickly. 

What to do! 

Some one said to the President, “There is a fellow by 
the name of Rowan will find Garcia for you, if anybody 
can.” 

Rowan was sent for and given a letter to be delivered 
to Garcia. 

How “the fellow by the name of Rowan” took the 
letter, sealed it up in an oil-skin pouch, strapped it over 
his heart, in four days landed by night off the coast of 
Cuba from an open boat, disappeared into the jungle, 
and in three weeks came out on the other side of the 
Island, having traversed a hostile country on foot, and 
delivered his letter to Garcia, are things I have no special 
desire now to tell in detail. The point I wish to make 
is this: McKinley gave Rowan a letter to be delivered 
to Garcia; Rowan took the letter and did not ask, 
“Where is he at?” 

By the Eternal, there is a man whose form should be 
cast in deathless bronze and the statue placed in every 
college of the land! It is not book-learning young men 
need, nor instruction about this and that, but a stiffen- 


J 5 2 


ECONOMY AND INDUSTRY 


ing of the vertebrae which will cause them to be loyal 
to a trust, to act promptly, concentrate their energies: 
do the thing — “Carry a message to Garcia!” 

General Garcia is dead now, but there are other Gar¬ 
cias. No man who has endeavored to carry out an en¬ 
terprise where many hands are needed but has been well 
nigh appalled at times by the imbecility of the average 
man — the inability or unwillingness to concentrate on a 
thing and do it. 

Slip-shod assistance, foolish inattention, dowdy indif¬ 
ference, and half-hearted work seem the rule; and no 
man succeeds, unless by hook or crook, or threat, he 
forces or bribes other men to assist him; or mayhap, 
God in His goodness performs a miracle, and sends him 
an Angel of Light for an assistant. 

You, reader, put this matter to a test: You are sitting 
now in your office — six clerks are within call. Summon 
any one and make this request: “Please look in the 
encyclopedia and make a brief memorandum for me con¬ 
cerning the life of Correggio.” 

Will the clerk quietly say, “Yes, sir,” and go do the 
task? On your life he will not. He will look at you out 
of a fishy eye and ask one or more of the following 
questions: 

Who was he? 

Which encyclopedia? 

Where is the encyclopedia? 

Was I hired for that? 

Don’t you mean Bismarck? 

What’s the matter with Charlie doing it? 

Is he dead? 

Is there any hurry? 


A MESSAGE TO GARCIA 


*53 


Shan’t I bring you the book and let you look it up 
yourself? 

What do you want to know for? 

And I will lay you ten to one that after you have 
answered the questions, and explained how to find the 
information, and why you want it, the clerk will go off 
and get one of the other clerks to help him try to find 
Garcia — and then come back and tell you there is no 
such man. Of course I may lose my bet, but according 
to the Law of Average I will not. 

Now if you are wise, you will not bother to explain 
to your “assistant” that Correggio is indexed under the 
C’s, not in the K’s, but you will smile sweetly and say, 
“Never mind,” and go look it up yourself. And this 
incapacity for independent action, this moral stupidity, 
this infirmity of the will, this unwillingness to cheerfully 
catch hold and lift — these are the things that put pure 
Socialism so far into the future. If men will not act 
for themselves what will they do when the benefit of 
their effort is for all? A first-mate with knotted club 
seems necessary; and the dread of getting “the bounce” 
Saturday night holds many a worker to his place. 
Advertise for a stenographer, and nine out of ten who 
apply can neither spell nor punctuate — and do not 
think it necessary to. Can such a one write a letter to 
Garcia? 

“You see that bookkeeper?” said the foreman to me 
in a large factory. “Yes, what about him?” “Well, 
he’s a fine accountant, but if I’d send him up town on 
an errand, he might accomplish the errand all right, and 
on the other hand might stop at four saloons on the 
way, and when he got to Main Street would forget what 


*54 


ECONOMY AND INDUSTRY 


he had been sent for.” Can such a man be entrusted to 
carry a message to Garcia? 

We have recently been hearing much maudlin sym¬ 
pathy expressed for the “ down-trodden denizen of the 
sweat-shop” and the “homeless wanderer searching for 
honest employment,” and with it all often go many hard 
words for the men in power. Nothing is said about the 
employer who grows old before his time in a vain at¬ 
tempt to get frowsy ne’er-do-wells to do intelligent 
work; and his long, patient striving with “help” that 
does nothing but loaf when his back is turned. In every 
store and factory there is a constant weeding-out process 
going on. The employer is constantly sending away 
“help” that have shown their incapacity to further the 
interests of the business, and others are being taken on. 
No matter how good times are, this sorting continues, 
only if times are hard and work is scarce, the sorting is 
done finer — but out and forever out, the incompetent 
and unworthy go. It is the survival of the fittest. 
Self-interest prompts every employer to keep the best 
— those who can carry a message to Garcia. 

I know one man of really brilliant parts who has not 
the ability to manage a business of his own, and yet 
who is absolutely worthless to anyone else, because he 
carries with him constantly the insane suspicion that his 
employer is oppressing or intending to oppress him. 
He cannot give orders; and he will not receive them. 
Should a message be given him to take to Garcia, his 
answer would probably be, “Take it yourself.” To¬ 
night this man walks the streets looking for work, the 
wind whistling through his threadbare coat. No one 
who knows him dares employ him, for he is a regular 


A MESSAGE TO GARCIA 


*55 


firebrand of discontent. He is impervious to reason, 
and the only thing that can impress him is the toe of a 
thick-soled No. 9 boot. 

Of course I know that one so morally deformed is no 
less to be pitied than a physical cripple; but in our pity¬ 
ing, let us drop a tear, too, for the men who are striving 
to carry on a great enterprise, whose working hours are 
not limited by the whistle, and whose hair is fast turn¬ 
ing white through the struggle to hold in line dowdy 
indifference, slip-shod imbecility, and the heartless in¬ 
gratitude, which, but for their enterprise, would be hun¬ 
gry and homeless. 

Have I put the matter too strongly? Possibly I 
have; but when all the world has gone a-slumming I 
wish to speak a word of sympathy for the man who 
succeeds — the man who, against great odds, has di¬ 
rected the efforts of others, and having succeeded finds 
there’s nothing in it: nothing but board and clothes. 
I have carried a dinner pail and worked for day’s wages, 
and I have also been an employer of labor, and I know 
there is something to be said on both sides. There is 
no excellence, per se, in poverty; rags are no recom¬ 
mendation; and all employers are not rapacious and 
high-handed, any more than all poor men are virtuous. 
My heart goes out to the man who does his work when 
the “boss” is away, as well as when he is at home. And 
the man, who, when given a letter for Garcia, quietly 
takes the missive, without asking any idiotic questions, 
and with no lurking intention of chucking it into the 
nearest sewer, or of doing aught else but deliver it, 
never gets “laid off,” nor has to go on a strike for 
higher wages. Civilization is one long anxious search 


ECONOMY AND INDUSTRY 


156 

for just such individuals. Anything such a man asks 
shall be granted; his kind is so rare that no employer 
can afford to let him go. He is wanted in every city, 
town, and village — in every office, shop, store, and 
factory. The world cries out for such: he is needed, 
and needed badly — the man who can carry a message 
to Garcia. 

Study Helps and Questions 

1. Who was President at the time of our war with Spain? Who 

were the Insurgents? Who was Garcia? 

2. Where was Garcia at the time the President wanted to reach 

him? Why did he want to reach him? Who took the Presi¬ 
dent’s message to Garcia? How did he take it? 

3. What lessons can be learned from Rowan’s action? What 

lessons do young men in business need most to learn? 

4. State some reasons why men are failing in their work. What 

are the natural results of such failures? How can they be 
corrected? 

5. State some of the difficulties that an employer faces when his 

employees fail to cooperate with him. What is he compelled 
to do in such cases? 

6. State some of the rights and duties of the employer and of the 

employee. 

7. If employer and employee treated each other fairly, do you 

think such things as “strikes” would occur? 

8. What opportunities does the world offer to the honest and re¬ 

liable man who does his work without question? 

9. What do you understand by the expression “Carry a message to 

Garcia”? 

THE BUILDERS 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 

All are architects of Fate, 

Working in these walls of Time, 

Some with massive deeds and great, 

Some with ornaments of rhyme. 



THE BUILDERS 


I 57 


Nothing useless is, or low; 

Each thing in its place is best; 

And what seems but idle show 
Strengthens and supports the rest. 

For the structure that we raise, 

Time is with materials filled; 

Our to-days and yesterdays 

Are the blocks with which we build. 

Truly shape and fashion these; 

Leave no yawning gaps between; 
Think not, because no man sees, 

Such things will remain unseen. 

In the elder days of Art, 

Builders wrought with greatest care 
Each minute and unseen part; 

For the Gods see everywhere. 

» 

Let us do our work as well, 

Both the unseen and the seen; 

Make the house, where Gods may dwell, 
Beautiful, entire, and clean. 

Else our lives are incomplete, 

Standing in these walls of Time, 
Broken stairways, where the feet 
Stumble as they seek to climb. 

Build to-day, then, strong and sure, 
With a firm and ample base; 

And ascending and secure 

Shall to-morrow find its place. 


ECONOMY AND INDUSTRY 


Thus alone can we attain 

To those turrets, where the eye 
Sees the world as one vast plain, 
And one boundless reach of sky. 


DAILY WORK 
Charles Mackay 

Who lags for dread of daily work, 

And his appointed task would shirk- 
Commits a folly and a crime: 

He is a slave — a paltry knave — 

A clog upon the wheels ,of Time. 

With work to do, and store of health, 

The man’s unworthy to be free 

Who will not give, that he may live, 
His daily toil for fee. 

Who only asks for humblest wealth, 

Enough for competence and health, 

And leisure, when his work is done, 

To read his book by chimney nook, 
Or stroll at setting of the sun; 

Who toils as every man should toil 
For fair reward, erect and free: 

These are the men — the best of men 
These are the men we mean to be. 



THE HOMES OF THE PEOPLE 


159 


THRIFT WISDOM 

Economy makes happy homes and sound nations. 
Instil it deep. — George Washington. 

Teach economy. That is one of the first and highest 
virtues. It begins with saving money. — Abraham 
Lincoln. 

No boy ever became great as a man who did not in 
his youth learn to save money. — John Wanamaker. 

Above all, teach the children to save; economy is 
the sure foundation for all virtues. — Victor Hugo. 

Save and teach all you are interested in to save; 
thus pave the way for moral and material success. 
— Thomas Jefferson. 

Go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways, and 
be wise; which having no guide, overseer, or ruler, pro- 
videth her meat in the summer, and gathereth her food 
in the harvest. — The Bible. 


THE HOMES OF THE PEOPLE 
Henry Woodfin Grady 

I went to Washington the other day, and I stood on 
the Capitol Hill; my heart beat quick as I looked at 
the towering marble of my country’s Capitol and the 
mist gathered in my eyes as I thought of its tremendous 
significance, and the armies and the treasury, and the 
judges and the President, and the Congress and the 
courts, and all that was gathered there. And I felt 



160 ECONOMY AND INDUSTRY 

the sun in all its course could not look down on a 
better sight than that majestic home of a republic 
that had taught the world its best lessons of liberty. 
And I felt that if honor and wisdom and justice abided 
therein, the world would at last owe that great house 
in which the ark of the covenant of my country is 
lodged, its final uplifting and its regeneration. 

Two days afterward, I went to visit a friend in the 
country, a modest man, with a quiet country home. 
It was just a simple, unpretentious house, set about 
with big trees, encircled in meadow and field rich with 
the promise of harvest. The fragrance of the pink 
and hollyhock in the front yard was mingled with the 
aroma of the orchard and of the gardens, and resonant 
with the cluck of poultry and the hum of bees. 

Inside was quiet, cleanliness, thrift, and comfort. 
There was the old clock that had welcomed, in steady 
measure, every newcomer to the family, that had 
ticked the solemn requiem of the dead, and had kept 
company with the watcher at the bedside. There were 
the big, restful beds and the open fireplace, and the old 
family Bible, thumbed with the fingers of hands long 
since still, and wet with the tears of eyes long since 
closed, beholding the simple annals of the family and 
the heart and the conscience of the home. 

Outside, there stood my friend, the master, a simple, 
upright man, with no mortgage on his roof, no lien 
on his growing crops, master of his land and master 
of himself. There was his old father, an aged, trem¬ 
bling man, but happy in the heart and home of his son. 
And as they started to their home, the hands of the 
old man went down on the young man’s shoulder, laying 


THE HOMES OF THE PEOPLE 161 

there the unspeakable blessing of the honored and grate¬ 
ful father and ennobling it with the knighthood of the 
fifth commandment. 

And as they reached the door the old mother came 
with the sunset falling fair on her face, and lighting up 
her deep patient eyes, while her lips, trembling with the 
rich music of her heart, bade her husband and son wel¬ 
come to their home. Beyond was the housewife, busy 
with her household cares, clean of heart and conscience, 
the buckler and helpmeet of her husband. Down the 
lane came the children, trooping home after the cows, 
seeking as truant birds do the quiet of their home nest. 

And I saw the night come down on that house, falling 
gently as the wings of the unseen dove. And the old 
man — while a startled bird called from the forest, and 
the trees were shrill with the cricket’s cry, and the 
stars were swarming in the sky — got the family around 
him, and, taking the old Bible from the table, called 
them to their knees, the little baby hiding in the 
folds of its mother’s dress, while he closed the record 
of that simple day by calling God’s benediction on that 
family and on that home. And while I gazed, the vision 
of the marble Capitol faded. Forgotten were its treas¬ 
ures and its majesty, and I said, “Oh, surely here in 
the homes of the people are lodged at last the strength 
and the responsibility of this government, the hope and 
the promise of this republic.” 

Study Helps and Questions 

1. Describe the author’s feelings as he looked upon the capitol at 

Washington. 

2. What did it represent to him? 


i 62 


ECONOMY AND INDUSTRY 


3. Explain the reference made to the Ark of the Covenant. 

4. Why does he call the capitol the ark of the covenant of our 

country? 

5. Describe the visit to the quiet country home. 

6. Describe the people who lived in this home. 

7. How did the old father close the day’s work? What effect did 

this quiet home life have on the visitor? 

8. Explain how “the homes of the people” are “the strength of 

the government, the hope of the Republic.” 


THE HERITAGE 

James Russell Lowell 

The rich man’s son inherits lands, 

And piles of brick and stone and gold, 
And he inherits soft white hands, 

And tender flesh that fears the cold, 

Nor dares to wear a garment old: 

A heritage, it seems to me, 

One scarce would wish to hold in fee. 

The rich man’s son inherits cares; 

The bank may break, the factory burn, 
A breath may burst his bubble shares, 
And soft white hands could hardly earn 
A living that would serve his turn: 

A heritage, it seems to me, 

One scarce would wish to hold in fee. 

The rich man’s son inherits wants; 

His stomach craves for dainty fare; 
With sated heart, he hears the pants 
Of toiling hinds with brown arms bare, 
And wearies in his easy-chair: 



THE HERITAGE 


163 


A heritage, it seems to me, 

One scarce would wish to hold in fee. 

What doth the poor man’s son inherit? 

Stout muscles and a sinewy heart, 

A hardy frame, a hardier spirit; 

King of two hands, he does his part 
In every useful toil and art: 

A heritage, it seems to me, 

A king might wish to hold in fee. 

What doth the poor man’s son inherit? 

A patience learned of being poor, 
Courage, if sorrow comes, to bear it, 

A fellow-feeling that is sure 
To make the outcast bless his door: 

A heritage, it seems to me, 

A king might wish to hold in fee. 

O rich man’s son! there is a toil 
That with all others level stands; 

Large charity doth never soil, 

But only whiten, soft white hands, — 
This is the best crop from thy lands: 

A heritage, it seems to me, 

Worth being rich to hold in fee. 

O poor man’s son! scorn not thy state; 

-There is worse weariness than thine 
In merely being rich and great; 

Toil only gives the soul to shine, 
And makes rest fragrant and benign: 
A heritage, it seems to me, 

Worth being poor to hold in fee. 


164 


ECONOMY AND INDUSTRY 


Both, heirs to some six feet of sod, 
Are equal in the earth at last; 
Both, children of the same dear God, 
Prove title to your heirship vast 
By record of a well-filled past; 

A heritage, it seems to me, 

Well worth a life to hold in fee. 


Study Helps and Questions 

1. What does the rich man’s son inherit? 

2. State some of the evil effects of his heritage. 

3. What does the poor man’s son inherit? 

4. State some of the advantages of his inheritance. 

5. Compare the heritage of the rich man and the poor man, and 

state how you thihk they could help each other. 

6. What is the common heritage of both? 

7. What lessons for life should each learn from this fact? 


And for success, I ask no more than this, — 

To bear unflinching witness to the truth. 

All true whole men succeed; for what is worth 
Success’s name, unless it be the thought, 

The inward surety, to have carried out 
A noble purpose to a noble end .—James Russell Lowell. 


Let us be content in work 

To do the thing we can, and not presume 

To fret because it’s little. — E. B. Browning . 




TUBAL CAIN 


TUBAL CAIN 
Charles Mackay 

i 

Old Tubal Cain was a man of might 
In the days when the earth was young; 

By the fierce red light of his furnace bright, 

The strokes of his hammer rung; 

And he lifted high his brawny hand 
On the iron glowing clear, 

Till the sparks rushed out in scarlet showers, 

As he fashioned the sword and the spear. 

And he sang: “Hurrah for my handiwork! 

Hurrah for the Spear and Sword! 

Hurrah for the hand that shall wield them well, 
For he shall be king and lord! ” 


ii 

To Tubal Cain came many a one, 

As he wrought by his roaring fire, 

And each one prayed for a strong steel blade 
As the crown of his desire; 

And he made them weapons sharp and strong, 
Till they shouted loud for glee, 

And gave him gifts of pearl and gold, 

And spoils of the forest free. 

And they sang: “Hurrah for Tubal Cain, 

Who hath given us strength anew! 

Hurrah for the smith, hurrah for the fire, 

And hurrah for the metal true!” 


i66 


ECONOMY AND INDUSTRY 


hi 

But a sudden change came o’er his heart, 

Ere the setting of the sun, 

And Tubal Cain was filled with pain 
For the evil he had done; 

He saw that men, with rage and hate, 

Made war upon their kind; 

That the land was red with the blood they shed 
In their lust for carnage blind. 

And he said: “Alas! that ever I made, 

Or that skill of mine should plan, 

The spear and the sword for men whose joy 
Is to slay their fellow-man!” 

IV 

And for many a day old Tubal Cain 
Sat brooding o’er his woe; 

And his hand forbore to smite the ore, 

And his furnace smouldered low. 

But he rose at last with a cheerful face, 

And a bright courageous eye, 

And bared his strong right arm for work, 

While the quick flames mounted high. 

And he sang: “Hurrah for my handiwork!” 

And the red sparks lit the air; 

“Not alone for the blade was the bright steel made 
As he fashioned the First Ploughshare! 

v 

And men, taught wisdom from the Past, 

In friendship joined their hands, 

Hung the sword in the hall, the spear on the wall, 
And ploughed the willing lands, 

And sang: “Hurrah for Tubal Cain! 

Our staunch good friend is he; 


TUBAL CAIN 


167 


And for the ploughshare and the plough 
To him our praise shall be. 

But while Oppression lifts its head, 

Or a tyrant would be lord, 

Though we may thank him for the Plough, 

We’ll not forget the Sword!” 

Study Helps and Questions 

Tubal Cain is a Biblical character, “an instructor in brass and 
iron,” as we learn from the Bible itself (Genesis). The poem repre¬ 
sents the development of the race from barbarism to civilization. In 
the beginning the savage delighted only in warfare, as symbolized by 
“the sword and the spear”; but as man became civilized, the “plow¬ 
share,” emblem of peace and industry, supplanted the weapons of war. 
Still, when man is oppressed, he lays aside’ his peaceful implement and 
takes up the sword in defense of his rights and liberties. 

1. Who was Tubal Cain? 

2. When did he live? 

3. Tell how he made the spear and the sword? 

4. How did he feel about his handiwork? 

5. How did man receive the weapons that he made? 

6. Explain the change that came over his heart. 

7. Why was he filled with grief over the results of his work? 

8. Tell how he made the first plowshare. 

9. What effect did the making of the plowshare have on man? 

10. Did his use of the plow do away entirely with the use of the 

sword? 

11. Read the entire poem and tell what you think it means. Of 

what is the sword an emblem? What does the plow signify? 

Compare the merits of each as shown by results in the world. 


THE AMERICAN FLAG 


This flag which we honor and under which we serve is the emblem 
of our unity, our power, our thought, and purpose as a nation. It 
has no character other than that which we give it from generation 
to generation. — From President Wilson’s Flag Day Address, June 
14, 1917. 


THE AMERICAN FLAG 



Foreword 

11 Its highest beauty is that which it symbolizes .” 

When we see our country’s flag, we see not the flag alone, with 
its alternate bars of red and white and its field of blue studded with 
stars. We see the great land over which it floats, a land which 
stretches from ocean to ocean, and holds within its arms as many 
States as there are stars on the blue field. We see the millions of 
people that look up to it with reverence in their eyes and love in 
their hearts, people who go about their daily tasks, from the highest 
to the lowest, toiling through the day, encouraged by the sight of the 
flag, and lying down to sleep at night safe under its folds. 

The red speaks of the bravery of our people, the white of their 
purity, the blue of their truth, and the stars of the glory of their 
principles. Thus the flag embodies the highest ideals of our Nation, 
ideals by which we live and for which we would die. 

In foreign lands, the flag speaks to its children of home, and to 
foreigners it speaks of a land of refuge where all enjoy freedom and 
the right to live. To foreign governments it speaks of a nation, young 
in the history of the world, but whose banner has never been stained 
by an unworthy act, a nation where millions would spring to its de¬ 
fense from high places and low places, to keep it unstained, and to 
keep it floating over “the land of the free and the home of the brave.” 




THE FLAG 


My Pledge 

I pledge my allegiance to my flag and to the Republic 
for which it stands — one nation, indivisible , with liberty 
and justice for all. 

YOUR FLAG AND MY FLAG 
Wilbur D. Nesbit 

Your flag and my flag, 

And how it flies today 

In your land and my land 
And half a world away! 

Rose-red and blood-red 
The stripes forever gleam; 

Snow-white and soul-white — 

The good forefathers’ dream; 

Sky-blue and true blue, with stars to gleam aright — 

The gloried guidon of the day; a shelter through the night. 

Your flag and my flag! 

For every star and stripe 

The drums beat as hearts beat 
And fifers shrilly pipe! 

Your flag and my flag — 

A blessing in the sky; 

Your hope and my hope — 

It never hid a lie! 

Home land and far land and half the world around, 

Old Glory hears our glad salute and ripples to the sound! 

171 



172 


THE AMERICAN FLAG 


Your flag and my flag! 

And oh, how much it holds -— 

Your land and my land — 

Secure within its folds! 

Your heart and my heart 
Beat quicker at the sight; 

Sun-kissed and wind-tossed — 

Red and blue and white. 

The one flag — the great flag — the flag for me and you 
Glorified all else beside — the red and white and blue! 


THE AMERICAN FLAG 

Joseph Rodman Drake 

When Freedom from her mountain height 
Unfurled her standard to the air, 

She tore the azure robe of night, 

And set the stars of glory there. 

She mingled with its gorgeous dyes 
The milky baldric of the skies, 

And striped its pure celestial white 
With streakings of the morning light; 
Then from his mansion in the sun 
She called her eagle bearer down, 

And gave into his mighty hand 
The symbol of her chosen land. 

Majestic monarch of the cloud, 

Who rear’st aloft thy regal form, 

To hear the tempest trumpings loud 
And see the lightning lances driven, 

When strive the warriors of the storm, 
And rolls the thunder-drum of heaven, 
Child of the sun! to thee ’tis given 
To guard the banner of the free, 



THE AMERICA^ FLAG 


1 7S 

To hover in the sulphur smoke, 

To ward away the battle stroke, 

And bid its blendings shine afar, 

Like rainbows on the cloud of war, 

The harbingers of victory! 

Flag of the brave! thy folds shall fly, 

The sign of hope and triumph high, 

When speaks the signal trumpet tone, 

And the long line comes gleaming on. 

Ere yet the life-blood, warm and wet, 

Has dimmed the glistening bayonet, 

Each soldier eye shall brightly turn 
To where thy sky-born glories burn, 

And, as his springing steps advance, 

Catch war and vengeance from the glance. 

And when the cannon-mouthings loud 
Heave in wild wreaths the battle shroud, 

And' glory sabres rise and fall 

Like shoots of flame on midnight’s pall, 

Then shall thy meteor glances glow, 

And cowering foes shall shrink beneath 
Each gallant arm that strikes below 
That lovely messenger of death. 

Flag of the seas! on ocean wave 
Thy stars shall glitter o’er the brave; 

When death, careering on the gale, 

Sweeps darkly round the bellied sail, 

And frighted waves rush wildly back 
Before the broadside’s reeling rack, 

Each dying wanderer of the sea 
Shall look at once to heaven and thee, 

And smile to see thy splendors fly 
In triumph o’er his closing eye. 


I 74 


THE AMERICAN FLAG 


Flag of the free heart’s hope and home! 

By angel hands to valor given, 

Thy stars have lit the welkin dome, 

And all thy hues were born in heaven. 

Forever float that standard sheet! 

Where breathes the foe but falls before us, 

With Freedom’s soil beneath our feet, 

And Freedom’s banner streaming o’er us? 

Study Helps and Questions 

1. Explain the making of the flag as told in the first verse. What 

do the different colors symbolize? 

2. Why was the eagle chosen as the standard bearer? 

3. What qualities are represented by the eagle? 

4. What does our flag mean to our soldiers on the battlefield? 

5. What does it mean to our foes? 

6. What does our flag mean on the seas? 

7. Why do we speak of our flag as “the flag of the free”? 

8. Why does every true patriot venerate and love his flag? 


THE AMERICAN FLAG 

Henry Ward Beecher 

A thoughtful mind, when it sees a nation’s flag, sees 
not the flag only, but the nation itself; and whatever 
may be its symbols, its insignia, he reads chiefly in the 
flag the government, the principles, the truths, the his¬ 
tory, which belong to the nation which sets it forth. 

When the French tricolor rolls out to the wind," we 
see France. When the new-found Italian flag is unfurled, 
we see resurrected Italy. When the other three-cornered 
Hungarian flag shall be lifted to the wind, we shall see 



THE AMERICAN FLAG 


*75 


in it the long buried but never dead principles of Hun¬ 
garian liberty. When the united crosses of St. Andrew 
and St. George on a fiery ground set forth the banner 
of Old England, we see not the cloth merely; there rises 
up before the mind the noble aspect of that monarchy, 
which, more than any other on the globe, has advanced 
its banner for liberty, law, and national prosperity. 

This nation has a banner too; and wherever it 
streamed abroad, men saw daybreak bursting on their 
eyes, for the American flag has been the symbol of 
liberty, and men rejoiced in it. Not another flag on the 
globe had such an errand, or went forth upon the sea, 
carrying everywhere, the world around, such hope for 
the captive, and such glorious tidings. The stars upon 
it were to the pining nations like the morning stars of 
God, and the stripes upon it were beams of morning light. 

As at early dawn the stars stand first, and then it 
grows light, and then as the sun advances that light 
breaks into banks and streaming lines of color, the glow¬ 
ing red and intense white striving together and ribbing 
the horizon with bars effulgent, so on the American flag, 
stars and beams of many-colored light shine out to¬ 
gether. And wherever this flag comes, and men behold 
it, they see in its sacred emblazonry no ramping lion 
and no fierce eagle; no embattled castles, or insignia ~of 
imperial authority; they see the symbols of light. It 
is the Banner of Dawn; it means Liberty. 

Consider the men who devised and set forth this ban¬ 
ner; they were men that had taken their lives in their 
hands and consecrated all their worldly possessions — 
for what? For the doctrines and for the personal fact, 
of liberty — for the right of all men to liberty. 


THE AMERICAN FLAG 


176 

If any one, then, asks me the meaning of our flag, I 
say to him, It means just what Concord and Lexington 
meant; what Bunker Hill meant; it means the whole 
glorious Revolutionary War, which was, in short, the 
rising up of a valiant young people against an old tyr¬ 
anny to establish the most momentous doctrine that 
the world had ever known, or has since known — the right 
of men to their own selves and to their liberties. 

The history of this banner is all on the side of rational 
liberty. Under it rode Washington and his armies; be¬ 
fore it Burgoyne laid down his arms. It waved on the 
highlands of West Point; it floated over old Fort Mont¬ 
gomery. When Arnold would have surrendered these 
valuable fortresses and precious legacies, his night was 
turned into day, and his treachery was driven away, 
by the beams of light from this starry banner. It 
cheered our army, driven out from around New York, 
and in their painful pilgrimages through New Jersey. 
This banner streamed in light over the soldiers’ heads 
at Valley Forge and at Morristown. It crossed the 
waters rolling with ice at Trenton; and when its stars 
gleamed in the cold morning with victory, a new day 
of hope dawned on the despondency of this nation. 

And when at length the long years of war were draw¬ 
ing to a close, underneath the folds of this immortal 
banner sat Washington, while Yorktown surrendered its 
hosts, and our Revolutionary struggle ended with vic¬ 
tory. 

How glorious, then, has been its origin! How glori¬ 
ous has been its history! How divine is its meaning! 
In all the world is there another banner that carries 
such hope, such grandeur of spirit, such soul-inspiring 


THE AMERICAN FLAG 


I 77 


truth, as our dear old American flag? made by liberty, 
made for liberty, nourished in its spirit, carried in its 
service, and never, not once, in all the earth made to 
stoop to despotism! 

Accept it, then, in all its fullness of meaning. It is 
not a painted rag. It is a whole national history. It is 
the Constitution. It is the government. It is the free 
people that stand in the government, on the Constitu¬ 
tion. Forget not what it means; and for the sake of 
its ideas, rather than its mere emblazonry, be true to 
your country’s flag. By your hands lift it; but let 
your lifting be no holiday display. It must be ad¬ 
vanced “because of the truth” 


Study Helps and Questions 

1. What does the thoughtful mind see in a nation’s flag? 

2. Explain what is symbolized by the French flag; by the Italian 

flag; by the flag of Great Britain. 

3. What does the American flag represent? Why is it called “the 

Banner of Dawn”? Why does it symbolize liberty more than 
any other banner? 

4. Explain how the flag represents the fine ideals of the men who 

devised and fought for it in the days of the Revolution. Name 
some of the heroes of the Revolution who fought for the flag 
and some of the battles in which it led them to victory. 

5. What is the full meaning of the American flag? For what prin¬ 

ciples does it stand? 

6. The American flag represents the American people. What 

duties does it impose on every true American citizen? 


i 7 8 


THE AMERICAN FLAG 


UNION AND LIBERTY 
Oliver Wendell Holmes 

Flag of the heroes who left us their glory, 

Borne through their battle-fields’ thunder and flame, 

Blazoned in song and illumined in story, 

Wave o’er us all who inherit their fame! 

Up with our banner bright, 

Sprinkled with starry light, 

Spread its fair emblems from mountain to shore, 

While through the sounding sky 
Loud rings the Nation’s cry, — 

Union and Liberty! One evermore! 

Light of our firmament, guide of our Nation, 

Pride of her children, and honored afar, 

Let the wide beams of thy full constellation 
Scatter each cloud that would darken a star! 

Empire unsceptered! what foe shall assail thee, 

Bearing the standard of Liberty’s van? 

Think not the God of thy fathers shall fail thee, 

Striving with men for the birthright of man! 

Yet if, by madness and treachery blighted, 

Dawns the dark hour when the sword thou must draw, 

Then with the arms of thy millions united, 

Smite the bold traitors to Freedom and Law! 

Lord of the Universe! shield us and guide us, 

Trusting thee always, through shadow and sun! 

Thou hast united us, who shall divide us? 

Keep us, O keep us the Many in One! 

Up with our banner bright, 

Sprinkled with starry light, 


GOD SAVE THE FLAG 


179 


Spread its fair emblems from mountain to shore, 
While through the sounding sky 
Loud rings the Nation’s cry, — 

Union and Liberty! One evermore! 


GOD SAVE THE FLAG 
Oliver Wendell Holmes 

Washed in the blood of the brave and the blooming, 
Snatched from the altars of insolent foes, 

Burning with star-fires, but never consuming, 

Flash its broad ribbons of lily and rose. 

Vainly the prophets of Baal would rend it, 

Vainly his worshippers pray for its fall; 

Thousands have died for it, millions defend it. 
Emblem of justice and mercy to all: 

Justice that reddens the sky with her terrors, 

Mercy that comes with her white-handed train, 

Soothing all passions, redeeming all errors, 

Sheathing the sabre and breaking the chain. 

Borne on the deluge of old usurpations, 

Drifted our Ark o’er the desolate seas, 

Bearing the rainbow of hope to the nations, 

Torn from the storm-cloud and flung to the breeze! 

God bless the Flag and its loyal defenders, 

While its broad folds o’er the battle-field wave, 

Till the dim star-wreath rekindle its splendors, 
Washed from its stains in the blood of the brave! 



i8o 


THE AMERICAN FLAG 


YOUR COUNTRY AND YOUR FLAG 1 
Edward Everett Hale 

“Youngster, let that show you what it is to be with¬ 
out a family, without a home, and without a country. 
And if you are ever tempted to say a word or to do a 
thing that shall put a bar between you and your family, 
your home, and your country, pray God in His mercy to 
take you that instant home to His own heaven. Stick 
by your family, boy; forget you have a self, while you 
do everything for them. Think of your home, boy; 
write and send, and talk about it. Let it be nearer 
and nearer to your thought, the farther you have to 
travel from it; and rush back to it, when you are free. 
And for your country, boy, and for that flag, never 
dream a dream but of serving her as she bids you, 
though the service carry you through a thousand hells. 
No matter what happens to you, no matter who flat¬ 
ters you or who abuses you, never look at another flag, 
never let a night pass but you pray God to bless that 
flag. Remember, boy, that behind all these men you 
have to do with, behind officers, and government, and 
people even, there is the country herself, your country, 
and that you belong to her as you belong to your own 
mother. Stand by her, boy, as you would stand by 
your mother!” 

Study Helps 

This speech is an extract from the book A Man Without a Country 
by Edward Everett Hale. According to the story, Philip Nolan, a 
young naval officer, was courtmartialed for alleged conspiracy with 

1 The speech of Philip Nolan from The Man without a Country. 


WHAT THE FLAG MEANS 


181 


Aaron Burr. In a fit of rage at his trial, Nolan cursed the United 
States, and declared that he wished never to hear the name of his 
country again. The court decreed that his wish should be gratified. 
Accordingly Nolan was put aboard a man-of-war bound for foreign 
parts, but as soon as the vessel was on its return voyage, he was trans¬ 
ferred to another outward bound ship. Moreover, he was never per¬ 
mitted to communicate in any way with his home or friends, and never 
allowed to read or to hear the name of his native land. The speech 
given here shows how keen his suffering was in his exile. The story 
has no histprical foundation. 


WHAT THE FLAG MEANS 
Charles E. Hughes 

This flag means more than association and reward. 
It is the symbol of our national unity, our national 
endeavor, our national aspiration. It tells you of the 
struggle for independence, of union preserved, of liberty 
and union one and inseparable, of the sacrifices of brave 
men and women to whom the ideals and honor of this 
nation have been dearer than life. 

It means America first; it means an undivided alle¬ 
giance. It means America united, strong and efficient, 
equal to her tasks. It means that you cannot be saved 
by the valor and devotion of your ancestors; that to 
each generation comes its patriotic duty; and that upon 
your willingness to sacrifice and endure as those before 
you have sacrificed and endured rests the national hope. 

It speaks of equal rights; of the inspiration of free 
institutions exemplified and vindicated; of liberty under 
law intelligently conceived and impartially administered. 

There is not a thread in it but scorns self-indulgence, 



182 


THE AMERICAN FLAG 


weakness, and rapacity. It is eloquent of our com¬ 
munity interests, outweighing all divergences of opinion, 
and of our common destiny. 

Given as a prize to those of the highest standing, it 
happily enforces the lesson that intelligence and zeal 
must go together, that discipline must accompany emo¬ 
tions, and that we must ultimately rely upon enlight¬ 
ened opinion. 

Study Helps 

This address was made to a graduating class at a school in Wash¬ 
ington, June, 1916, on the occasion of presenting a flag to the honor 
members. Rarely has the meaning of the flag been set forth in such 
forceful terms. 

Read the address carefully and see if it helps you to find a new 
meaning in our national banner. 

How should the honor members have regarded the “ prize ” they 
received? What should be the feeling of all true Americans towards 
their flag? 


THE CALL TO THE COLORS 

Arthur Guiterman 

“Are you ready, O Virginia, 
Alabama, Tennessee, 

People of the Southland, answer! 

For the land hath need of thee.” 
“Here!” from sandy Rio Grande, 
Where the Texan horsemen ride; 
“Here!” the hunters of Kentucky 
Hail from Chatterawall’s side; 
Every toiler in the cotton, 

Every rugged mountaineer, 
Velvet-voiced and iron-handed, 

Lifts his head to answer “Here!” 



THE CALL TO THE COLORS 


Some remain who charged with Pickett, 
Some survive who followed Lee; 

They shall lead their sons in battle 
For the flag, if need there be. 


“Are you ready, California, 

Arizona, Idaho? 

Come, oh come unto the colors! 

Hear ye not the bugle blow?” 

Falls a hush in San Francisco 
In the busy hives of trade; 

In the vineyards of Sonoma 

Falls the pruning knife and spade; 

In the mines of Colorado 

Pick and drill are thrown aside; 

Idly in Seattle harbour 

Swing the merchants to the tide; 

And a million mighty voices 
Throb responsive like a drum, 

Rolling from the rough Sierras, 

“You have called us, and we come.” 

O’er Missouri sounds the challenge — 
O’er the great lakes and the plain; 

“Are you ready, Minnesota? 

Are you ready, men of Maine?” 

From the woods of Ontonagon, 

From the farms of Illinois, 

From the looms of Massachusetts, 

“We are ready, man and boy.” 

Ax-men free, of Androscoggin, 

Clerks who trudge the cities’ paves, 

Gloucester men who drag their plunder 
From the sullen, hungry waves, 


184 


THE AMERICAN FLAG 


Big-boned Swede and large-limbed German, 
Celt and Saxon swell the call, 

And the Adirondacks echo, 

“We are ready, one and all.” 

Truce to feud and peace to faction! 

All forgot is party zeal 
When the war-ships clear for action 
When the blue battalions wheel. 

Europe boasts her standing armies, — 

Serfs who blindly fight by trade; 

We have seven million soldiers, 

And a soul guides every blade. 

Labourers with arm and mattock, 

Labourers with brain and pen, 

Railroad prince and railroad brakeman 
Build our line of fighting men. 

Flag of righteous wars! close mustered 
Gleam the bayonets, row on row, 

Where thy stars are sternly clustered, 

With their daggers towards the foe. 


MAKERS OF THE FLAG 
Franklin K. Lane 

This morning, as I passed into the Land Office, The 
Flag dropped me a most cordial salutation, and from its 
rippling folds I heard it say: “Good morning, Mr. Flag 
Maker.” 

“I beg your pardon, Old Glory,” I said, “aren’t you 
mistaken? I am not the President of the United States, 



MAKERS OF THE FLAG 185 

nor a member of Congress, nor even a general in the 
army. I am only a Government clerk.” 

“I greet you again, Mr. Flag Maker,” replied the gay 
voice, “I know you well. You are the man who worked 
in the swelter of yesterday straightening out the tangle 
of that farmer’s homestead in Idaho, or perhaps you 
found the mistake in that Indian contract in Oklahoma, 
or helped to clear that patent for the hopeful inventor 
in New York, or pushed the opening of that new ditch in 
Colorado, or made that mine in Illinois more safe, or 
brought relief to the old soldier in Wyoming. No mat¬ 
ter; whichever one of these beneficent individuals you 
may happen to be, I give you greeting, Mr. Flag Maker.” 

I was about to pass on, when The Flag stopped me 
with these words: 

“ Yesterday the President spoke a word that made 
happier the future of ten million peons in Mexico; but 
that act looms no larger on the flag than the struggle 
which the boy in Georgia is making to win the Corn 
Club prize this summer. 

“ Yesterday the Congress spoke a word which will 
open the door of Alaska; but a mother in Michigan 
worked from sunrise until far into the night, to give her 
boy an education. She, too, is making the flag. 

“ Yesterday we made a new law to prevent financial 
panics, and yesterday, maybe, a school teacher in Ohio 
taught his first letters to a boy who will one day write a 
song that will give cheer to the millions of our race. 
We are all making the flag.” 

“But,” I said impatiently, “these people were only 
working!” 

Then came a great shout from The Flag: 


i86 


THE AMERICAN FLAG 


“The work that we do is the making of the flag. 

“I am not the flag; not at all. I am but its shadow. 

“I am whatever you make me, nothing more. 

“ I am your belief in yourself, your dream of what 
a People may become. 

“I live a changing life, a life of moods and passions, 
of heartbreaks and tired muscles. 

“Sometimes I am strong with pride, when men do an 
honest work, fitting the rails together truly. 

“Sometimes I droop, for then purpose has gone from 
me, and cynically I play the coward. 

“Sometimes I am loud, garish, and full of that ego 
that blasts judgment. 

“But always, I am all that you hope to be, and have 
the courage to try for. 

“I am song and fear, struggle and panic, and enno¬ 
bling hope. 

“I am the day’s work of the weakest man, and the 
largest dream of the most daring. 

“I am the Constitution and the courts, statutes 
and the statute makers, soldier and dreadnaught, dray¬ 
man and street sweep, cook, counselor, and clerk. 

“I am the battle of yesterday, and the mistake of 
tomorrow. 

“I am the mystery of tlie men who do without know¬ 
ing why. 

“I am the clutch of an idea, and the reasoned pur¬ 
pose of resolution. 

“I am no more than what you believe me to be, and 
I am all that you believe I can be. 

“I am what you make me, nothing more. 

“I swing before your eyes as a bright gleam of color, 


THE FLAG GOES BY 


187 

a symbol of yourself, the pictured suggestion of that 
big thing which makes this nation. My stars and my 
stripes are your dream and your labors. They are 
bright with cheer, brilliant with courage, firm with faith, 
because you have made them so out of your hearts. 
For you are the makers of the flag and it is well that you 
glory in the making.” 


Study Helps 

This address was delivered before the government clerks of the 
Department of Interior at Washington, on Flag Day, 1914. It rep¬ 
resents the flag as speaking to a government clerk. Read its speech, 
and you will understand what the flag stands for 


THE FLAG GOES BY 
Henry Holcomb Bennett 
Hats off! 

Along the street there comes 
A blare of bugles, a ruffle of drums, 

A flash of color beneath the sky: 

Hats off! 

The flag is passing by! 

Blue and crimson and white it shines, 
Over the steel-tipped, ordered lines. 
Hats off! 

The colors before us fly; 

But more than the flag is passing by. 



i88 


THE AMERICAN FLAG 


Sea-fights and land-fights, grim and great, 
Fought to make and save the State; 
Weary marches and sinking ships; 

Cheers of victory on dying lips; 

Days of plenty and years of peace; 

March of a strong land’s swift increase; 
Equal justice, right, and law, 

Stately honor and reverend awe; 

Sign of a nation, great and strong 
To ward her people from foreign wrong: 
Pride and glory and honor, — all 
Live in the colors to stand or fall. 

Hats off! 

Along the street there comes 
A blare of bugles, a ruffle of drums; 

And loyal hearts are beating high: 

Hats off! 

The flag is passing by! 


THE FLAG DAY ADDRESS 
Woodrow Wilson 


My Fellow-Citizens: 

We meet to celebrate Flag Day because this flag which 
we honor and under which we serve is the emblem of 
our unity, our power, our thought and purpose as a 
nation. It has no other character than that which we 
give it from generation to generation. The choices are 
ours. It floats in majestic silence above the hosts that 



THE FLAG DAY ADDRESS 189 

execute those choices, whether in peace or in war. And 
yet, though silent, it speaks to us — speaks to us of the 
past, of the men and women who went before us and of 
the records they wrote upon it. We celebrate the day of 
its birth; and from its birth until now it has witnessed 
a great history, has floated on high the symbol of great 
events, of a great plan of life worked out by a great 

people. We are about to carry it into battle, to lift it 

where it will draw the fire of our enemies. We are 
about to bid thousands, hundreds ’of thousands, it may 
be millions, of our men, the young, the strong, the 

capable men of the nation, to go forth and die beneath 

it on fields of blood far away — for what? For some 
unaccustomed thing? For something for which it has 
never sought the fire before? American armies were 
never before sent across the seas. Why are they sent 
now? For some new purpose, for which this great flag 
has never been carried before, or for some old, familiar, 
heroic purpose for which it has seen men, its own men, 
die on every battlefield upon which Americans have 
borne arms since the Revolution? 

These are questions which must be answered. We 
are Americans. We in our turn serve America, and can 
serve her with no private purpose. We must use her 
flag as she has always used it. We are accountable at 
the bar of history and must plead in utter frankness 
what purpose it is we seek to serve. 

Study Helps 

This address was delivered by the President of the United States, 
at Washington, on Flag Day, June 14, 1917. Our country had just 
entered the World War, and this memorable address stirred the hearts 
of patriotic Americans to serve their country, even as their forefathers 


THE AMERICAN FLAG 


190 

had served in the days of the Revolution and in all the succeeding 
wars that involved their country’s honor. 

The flag must always stand for the highest ideals of a people, who 
owe it the truest devotion, and they must be ever ready to defend it at 
any sacrifice. 


THE FLAG IN BELGIUM 

William C. Edgar 

We stood on Belgium’s tortured soil, 
War-scarred it was — blood red, 

While Hunger stalked the smitten land 
And widows mourned their dead; 

And there was nowhere sign of hope, 

And nowhere help was nigh, 

Save in that spot where flew our flag, 

The Stars and Stripes, on high. 

Beneath it, safe protected, lay 
The food by Pity sent, 

And where it waved, Compassion stood 
With succor for the spent. 

The little children blessed the flag, 

And women kissed its bars, 

And men looked up, again with hope 
To gaze upon its stars. 

Go, trace its glories to their source 
In fights by land or sea, 

And tell of all that made this flag 
The emblem of the free. 

But nobler fight was never waged 
Nor higher honour gained 
Than where this flag ’gainst Famine’s force 
God’s mercy still maintained. 



A TOAST TO THE SONS OF THE FLAG 


191 


THE OLD FLAG FOREVER 
Frank L. Stanton 

She’s up there — Old Glory — where lightnings are sped; 
She dazzles the nations with ripples of red; 

And she’ll wave for us living, or droop o’er us dead — 

The flag of our country forever I 

She’s up there — Old Glory — how bright the stars stream! 
And the stripes like red signals of liberty gleam! 

And we dare for her, living, or dream the last dream 
’Neath the flag of our country forever! 

She’s up there — Old Glory — no tyrant-dealt scars 
Nor blur on her brightness, no stain on her stars! 

The brave blood of heroes hath crimsoned her bars — 

She’s the flag of our country forever! 


A TOAST TO THE SONS OF THE FLAG 

George Morrow Mayo 

Here’s to the Blue of the wind-swept North, 
When we meet on the fields of France; 

May the spirit of Grant be with you all 
As the sons of the North advance. 

And here’s to the Gray of the sun-kissed South, 
When we meet on the fields of France; 

May the spirit of Lee be with you all 
As the sons of the South advance. 



THE AMERICAN FLAG 


And here’s to the Blue and Gray as one, 
When we meet on the fields of France; 
May the spirit of God be with us all 
As the sons of the Flag advance. 


OUR NATIONAL BANNER 
Edward Everett 

All hail to our glorious ensign! Courage to the heart 
and strength to the hand, to which, in all time, it shall 
be entrusted! Wheresoever on the earth’s surface the 
eye of the American shall behold it, may he have reason 
to bless it! On whatsoever spot it is planted, there may 
freedom have a foothold, humanity a brave champion, and 
religion an altar. Though stained with blood in a right¬ 
eous cause, may it never, in any cause, be stained with 
shame. Alike, when its gorgeous folds shall wave in lazy 
holiday triumphs on the summer breeze, and its tattered 
fragments be dimly seen through the clouds of war, may 
it be the joy and pride of the American heart. First 
raised in the cause of right and liberty, in that cause 
alone may it forever spread out its streaming blazonry to 
the battle and the storm. Having been borne victori¬ 
ously across a mighty continent, and floating in triumph 
on every sea, may virtue, and freedom, and peace, forever 
follow where it leads the way. 



THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


“ There is a heritage of heroic example and noble obligation, not 
reckoned in the Wealth of Nations, but essential to a Nation’s life, 
the contempt of which, in any people, may, not slowly, mean even its 
commercial fall.” 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


Foreword 

What is it to be an American? 

It is to be faithful to the fine principles of truth and honor laid 
down for us by the great leaders of our land, by such splendid Ameri¬ 
cans as Washington, Franklin, Lincoln, Lee, and a host of others 
whose names have adorned the pages of our history, and who have 
left to us the priceless heritage of noble example. 

It is to remember that men are more than nations, and that a 
nation is not greater or better than the individual men of which it is 
composed. 

It is to live in our relation to God and our fellowmen so as to be 
always the truest examples of purest manhood and womanhood. 

It is to feel that in ourselves as individuals our nation survives 
or falls, and our conduct must ever prove our loyalty to God and our 
native land. 

To be an American, we must remember that we carry with us where- 
ever we go a responsibility to our past and to our future. We must 
remember that as individuals we are trusted with the sacred honor 
of our land, and that we must so live as to keep that honor unstained 
before God and our fellowman, and if need be to die to leave it un¬ 
stained. 

This is what it means to be an American 





WOODROW WILSON 




























AMERICA THE BEAUTIFUL 


Katharine Lee Bates 

O beautiful for spacious skies, 

For amber waves of grain, 

For purple mountain majesties 
Above the fruited plain! 

America! America! 

God shed His grace on thee 
And crown thy good with brotherhood 
From sea to shining sea! 

O beautiful for pilgrim feet 

Whose stern, impassioned stress 
A thoroughfare for freedom beat 
Across the wilderness! 

America! America! 

God mend thine every flaw, 

Confirm thy soul in self-control, 

Thy liberty in law! 

O beautiful for heroes proved 
In liberating strife, 

Who more than self their country loved, 
And mercy more than life! 

America! America! 

May God thy gold refine, 

Till all success be nobleness, 

And every gain divine! 

i9S 


196 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


O beautiful for patriot dream 
That sees beyond the years 
Thine alabaster cities gleam 
Undimmed by human tears! 

America! America! 

God shed His grace on thee 
And crown thy good with brotherhood 
From sea to shining sea! 

Study Helps and Questions 

1. Explain the natural advantages of America as described in the 

first verse. 

2. What is meant by the expression “Crown thy good with brother¬ 

hood”? 

3. What period in our country’s history is understood by the refer¬ 

ences made in the third verse? 

4. What heroes proved in “liberating strife” their love for their 

country? 

5. What is meant by the expression “alabaster cities”? . 

6. Does the true patriot labor only for his country’s present good? 


THE DUTY AND VALUE OF PATRIOTISM 

John Ireland 

The God-given mission of the Republic of America is 
not confined to its own people — it extends to all the 
peoples of the earth, to whom it is the symbol of human 
rights and of human liberty, and towards whom its flag 
flutters hopes of future happiness. 

Is there not for Americans meaning to the word “coun¬ 
try”? Is there not for Americans reason to live for 
country, and, if need be, to die for country? ... In 
every country, patriotism is a duty: in America, it is 
a duty thrice sacred. . . . The duty of patriotism is the 



WHAT MAKES A NATION? 


*97 


duty of justice and of gratitude. The country fosters 
and protects our dearest interests; it protects our 
hearths and altars. Without it there is no safety for 
life and property, no opportunity for development and 
progress. We are wise of our country’s wisdom, rich of its 
opulence, strong of its fortitude, resplendent of its glory. 

The prisoner Paul rose at once into proud distinction 
and commanded the respect of Roman soldiers and 
Palestinian Jews when, to the question of the tribune 
at Jerusalem: “Art thou a Roman?” ... he replied, 
“I am.” The title of honor, among the peoples of 
antiquity, was “Civis Romanus — a Roman citizen.” 
More significant today, throughout the world, is the 
title: “Civis Americanus — an American citizen.” 

Study Helps and Questions 

1. What does the author mean when he says that the “mission of 

the Republic of America is not confined to its own people”? 

2. What does the word “country” mean to Americans? 

3. Why is patriotism especially a duty in America? 

4. Explain the Biblical reference made to “the prisoner Paul.” 

5. Why was the title “Roman citizen” a mark of honor among 

ancient peoples? 

6. Why is the title “American citizen” a mark of honor in the 

world to-day? 

WHAT MAKES A NATION? 

W. D. Nesbit 

What makes a nation? Bounding lines that lead from shore 
to shore, 

That trace its girth on silent hills or on the prairie floor, 

That hold the rivers and the lakes and all the fields be¬ 
tween — 

The lines that stand about the land a barrier unseen? 



THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


198 

Or is it guns that hold the coast, or ships that sweep the seas, 

The flag that flaunts its glory in the racing of the breeze; 

The chants of peace, or battle hymn, or dirge, or victor’s 
song, 

Or parchment screed, or storied deed, that makes a nation 
strong? 

What makes a nation? Is it ships or states or flags or guns? 

Or is it that great common heart which beats in all her sons — 

That deeper faith, that truer faith, the trust in one for all 

Which sets the goal for every soul that hears his country’s 
call? 

This makes a nation great and strong and certain to endure, 

This subtle inner voice that thrills a man and makes him 
sure; 

Which makes him know there is no north or south or east or 
west, 

But that his land must ever stand the bravest and the best. 


But thou, my country, thou shalt never fall, 

But with thy children — thy maternal care, 

Thy lavish love, thy blessings showered on all — 

These are thy fetters — seas and stormy air 
Are the wide barrier of thy borders, where, 

Among thy gallant sons that guard thee well, 

Thou laugh’st at enemies: who shall then declare 
The date of thy deep-founded strength, or tell 
How happy, in thy lap, the sons of men shall dwell? 

— William Cullen Bryant 



THE FATHERLAND 


199 


LOVE OF COUNTRY 
Sir Walter Scott 

Breathes there the man with soul so dead, 
Who never to himself hath said, 

“This is my own —my native land!” 
Whose heart hath ne’er within him burned, 
As home his footsteps he hath turned, 
From wandering on a foreign strand! 

If such there breathe, go, mark him well; 
For him no Minstrel raptures swell; 

High though his titles, proud his name, 
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim; 
Despite those titles, power, and pelf, 

The wretch, concentered all in self, 

Living, shall forfeit fair renown, 

And, doubly dying, shall go down 
To the vile dust, from whence he sprung, 
Unwept, unhonored, and unsung. 


THE FATHERLAND 
James Russell Lowell 

Where is the true man’s fatherland? 

Is it where he by chance is born? 
Doth not the free-winged spirit scorn 
In such pent borders to be spanned? 

Oh yes, his fatherland must be 
As the blue heavens wide and free! 

Is it alone where freedom is, 

Where God is God and man is man? 
Doth he not claim a broader span 



200 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


For the soul’s love of home than this? 

Oh yes! his fatherland must be 
As the blue heavens wide and free! 

Where’er a human heart doth wear 
Joy’s myrtle wreath, or sorrow’s gyves, 
Where’er a human spirit strives 
After a life more pure and fair, 

There is the true man’s birthplace grand! 
His is a world-wide fatherland! ' 

Where’er a single slave doth pine, 

Where’er one man may help another — 
Thank God for such a birthright, brother! 
That spot of earth is thine and mine; 

There is the true man’s birthplace grand! 
His is the world-wide fatherland! 


DEFENCE OF THE ALAMO 
Joaquin Miller 

Santa Anna came storming, as a storm might come; 

There was a rumble of cannon; there was a rattle of blade; 
There was cavalry, infantry, bugle and drum, — 

Full seven thousand in pomp and parade, 

The chivalry, flower of Mexico; 

And a gaunt two hundred in the Alamo. 

And thirty lay sick, and some were shot through; 

For the siege had been bitter and bloody and long, 

“Surrender, or die.” — “Men, what will you do?” 

And Travis, great Travis, drew sword, quick and strong; 
Drew a line at his feet. “Will you come? Will you go? 

I die with my wounded, in the Alamo.” 



DEFENCE OF THE ALAMO 


201 


The Bowie gasped, “Lead me over that line!” 

Then Crockett, one hand on the sick, one hand on his gun, 
Crossed with him; then never a word nor a sign, 

Till all, sick or well — all, all save but one, 

One man. Then a woman, stepped, praying, and slow 
Across; to die at her post in the Alamo. 

Then that one coward fled, in the night, in that night 
When all men silently prayed and thought 
Of home; of tomorrow; of God and the right, 

Till dawn; and with dawn came Travis’s cannon-shot, 

In answer to insolent Mexico, 

From the old bell-tower of the Alamo. 

Then came Santa Anna; a crescent of flame! 

Then the red escalade; then the fight hand to hand; 

Such an unequal fight as never had name 

Since the Persian hordes butchered that doomed Spartan 
band. 

All day — all day and all night, and the morning? so slow, 
Through the battle smoke mantling the Alamo. 

Now silence! Such silence! Two thousand lay dead 
In a crescent outside! And within? Not a breath 
Save the gasp of a woman, with gory gashed head, 

All alone, all alone there, waiting for death; 

And she but a nurse. Yet when shall we know 
Another like this of the Alamo? 

Shout “Victory, victory, victory, ho!” 

I say ’tis not always to the hosts that win! 

I say that the victory, high or low, 

Is given the hero who grapples with sin, 

Or legion or single; just asking to know, 

When duty fronts death in his Alamo. 


202 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


Study Helps and Questions 

In 1833, Texas revolted against Mexico. During the struggle, 
Santa Anna, President of Mexico, attacked the Alamo, an old mission 
near San Antonio, used as a fort by the Americans. Every one of the 
small garrison perished in its defence. “Remember the Alamo!” be¬ 
came the battle cry of the Texans, and roused by the martyrdom of 
their countrymen, they completely routed the Mexican enemy and 
gained their independence. 

1. What was the Alamo? 

2. By whom was it defended? By whom attacked? 

3. Tell the story of the attack as it is given in the poem. Name 

some of the brave defenders of the Fort. How did the nurse 
act in the face of danger? What do you think of the action 
of the coward? 

4. What was the result of the attack? What advantages did Santa 

Anna have over the little garrison of the Alamo? 

5. Do you understand the reference made to the Spartans at Ther¬ 

mopylae? Compare the battle of Thermopylae with the siege 
of the Alamo. 

6. What was the result of the fall of the Alamo? 

7. What lessons for life does the poet draw from this event? * 


THE NEW SOUTH 

Henry Woodein Grady 

[The following is an extract from an address on “The New South” 
given before the New England Society in New York in 1886. Henry 
Grady was one of the most progressive men who labored to upbuild 
the South after the Civil War. He did much to harmonize the North 
and South after the war was over.] 

You of the North have had drawn for you with a 
master’s hand the picture of your returning armies. 
You have heard how, in the pomp and circumstance of 
war, they came back to you, marching with proud and 



THE NEW SOUTH 


203 


victorious tread, reading their glory in a nation’s eyes. 
Will you bear with me while I tell you of another army 
that sought its home at the close of the late war — an 
army that marched home in defeat and not in victory, 
in pathos and not in splendor? 

Let me picture to you the footsore Confederate soldier, 
as, buttoning up in his faded gray jacket the parole 
which was to bear testimony to his children of his 
fidelity and faith, he turned his face southward from 
Appomattox* in April, 1865. Think of him as, ragged, 
half-starved, heavy-hearted, enfeebled by want and 
wounds, having fought to exhaustion, he surrenders his 
gun, wrings the hands of his comrades in silence, and 
lifting his tear-stained and pallid face for the last time to 
the graves that dot old Virginia hills, pulls his gray cap 
over his brow and begins the slow and painful journey. 

What does he find — let me ask you — what does he 
find when, having followed the battle-stained cross 
against overwhelming odds, dreading death not half so 
much as surrender, he reaches the home he left so pros¬ 
perous and beautiful? He finds his house in ruins, his 
farm devastated, his slaves free, his stock killed, his 
barns empty, his trade destroyed, his money worthless, 
his social system, feudal in its magnificence, swept 
away, his people without law or legal status, his com¬ 
rades slain, and the burdens of others heavy on his 
shoulders. Crushed by defeat, his very traditions are 
gone. Without money, credit, employment, material, 
or training, and besides all this, confronted with the 
gravest problem that ever met human intelligence -— the 
establishing of a status for the vast body of his liberated 
slaves. 


204 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


What does he do, this hero in gray, with a heart of 
gold? Does he sit down in sullenness and despair? 
Not for a day. Surely God, who had stripped him of 
his prosperity, inspired him in his adversity. As ruin 
was never before so overwhelming, never was restora¬ 
tion swifter. The soldier stepped from the trenches 
into the furrow; horses that had charged Federal guns 
marched before the plow; and fields that ran red with 
human blood in April were green with the harvest in 
June. 

But what is the sum of our work? We have found out 
that the free negro counts more than he did as a slave. 
We have planted the schoolhouse on the hilltop and 
made it free to white and black. We have sowed towns 
and cities in the place of theories, and put business 
above politics. 

The new South is enamored of her new work. Her 
soul is stirred with the breath of a new life. The light 
of a grander day is falling fair on her face. She is thrill¬ 
ing with the consciousness of growing power and pros¬ 
perity. As she stands upright, full statured and equal, 
among the people of the earth, breathing the keen air 
and looking out upon the expanded horizon, she under¬ 
stands that her emancipation came because, through 
the inscrutable wisdom of God, her honest purpose was 
crossed and her brave armies were beaten. 

This is said in no spirit of time serving or apology. 
The South has nothing for which to apologize. She 
believes that the late struggle between the states was 
war and not rebellion; revolution and not conspiracy; 
and that her convictions were as honest as yours. I 
should be unjust to the dauntless spirit of the South and 


ONE COUNTRY 


205 


to my own convictions if I did not make this plain in 
this presence. The South has nothing to take back. 

Study Helps and Questions 

1. Contrast the return of the soldier of the North with the return 

of the Confederate soldier. 

2. What did the Confederate soldier find on his return? 

3. State some of the difficulties he had to face. How did he face 

them? 

4. Compare the South of to-day with the South at the close of the 

Civil War. How has the problem of the free negro been 
handled? 

5. To what does the South owe her prosperity? 


ONE COUNTRY 
Frank Lebby Stanton 
After all, 

One country, brethren! We must rise or fall 
With the Supreme Republic. We must be 
The makers of her immortality, — 

Her freedom, fame, 

Her glory or her shame: 

Liegemen to God and fathers of the free! 

After all —. 

Hark! from the heights the clear, strong, clarion call 
And the command imperious: “Stand forth, 

Sons of the South and brothers of the North! 

Stand forth and be 
As one on soil and sea — 

Your country’s honour more than empire’s worth!” 



20 6 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


After all, . . . 

’Tis Freedom wears the loveliest coronal; 

Her brow is to the morning; in the sod 
She breathes the breath of patriots; every clod 
Answers her call 
And rises like a wall 
Against the foes of liberty and God! 

The poem ‘‘One Country,” by F. L. Stanton, breathes the spirit 
of a reunited country, the spirit of America. 


THE MONROE DOCTRINE 

James Monroe 

In the wars of the European powers in matters relat¬ 
ing to themselves we have never taken any part, nor 
does it comport with our policy so to do. It is only 
when our rights are invaded or seriously menaced that 
we resent injuries or make preparation for our defense. 
With the movements in this hemisphere we are of neces¬ 
sity more immediately connected, and by causes which 
must be obvious to all enlightened and impartial ob¬ 
servers. The political system of the allied powers is 
essentially different in this respect from that of America. 
This difference proceeds from that which exists in their 
respective Governments; and to the defense of our own, 
which has been achieved by the loss of so much blood 
and treasure, and matured by the wisdom of their most 
enlightened citizens, and under which we have enjoyed 
unexampled felicity, this whole nation is devoted. 



THE MONROE DOCTRINE 


207 


We owe it, therefore, to candor and to the amicable 
relations existing between the United States and those 
powers to declare that we should consider any attempt 
on their part to extend their system to any portion of 
this hemisphere as dangerous to our peace and safety. 
With the existing colonies or dependencies of any Euro¬ 
pean power we have not interfered and shall not inter¬ 
fere. But with the Governments who have declared their 
independence and maintained it, and whose independence 
we have on great consideration and on just principles, 
acknowledged, we could not view any interposition for 
the purpose of oppressing them, or controlling in any 
other manner their destiny, by any European power, in 
any other light than as the manifestation of an un¬ 
friendly disposition toward the United States. In the 
war between those new Governments and Spain we de¬ 
clared our neutrality at the time of their recognition, 
and to this we have adhered, and shall continue to ad¬ 
here, provided no change shall occur which, in the judg¬ 
ment of the competent authorities of this Government, 
shall make a corresponding change on the part of the 
United States indispensable to their security. 


Study Helps 

James Monroe, the fifth president of the United States, in his message 
to Congress, December 2, 1823, declared that while the United States 
was resolved not to meddle in European affairs, she was equally deter¬ 
mined that Europe should not meddle with affairs in the New World. 
This declaration was occasioned by the fact that several South Ameri¬ 
can countries had at that time become republics; and as most Euro¬ 
pean countries were monarchies they looked with jealous eyes on the 
new republics, and were suspected of planning to interfere with their 
liberties. President Monroe’s famous message declared that America 
is for Americans” and all countries of both North and South America 


208 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


must manage their own affairs in their own way, without interference 
from Europe. This is known as the “Monroe Doctrine.” It has 
often been tested and has become part of the political creed of our 
country. 


AMERICA 

William Cullen Bryant 

O mother of a mighty race, 

Yet lovely in thy youthful grace; 

The elder dames, thy haughty peers, 
Admire and hate thy blooming years; 

With words of shame 
And taunts of scorn they join thy name. 

For on thy cheeks the glow is spread 
That tints thy morning hills with red; 
Thy step, — the wild deer’s rustling feet 
Within thy woods are not more fleet; 
Thy hopeful eye 

Is bright as thine own sunny sky. 

Ay, let them rail those haughty ones’ 
While safe thou dwellest with thy sons. 
They do not know how loved thou art, 
How many a fond and fearless heart 
Would rise to throw 
Its life between thee and the foe. 

There’s freedom at thy gates, and rest 
For earth’s down-trodden and opprest, 

A shelter for the hunted head, 

For the starved laborer toil and bread. 

Power, at thy bounds, 

Stops, and calls back his baffled hounds. 



THE RIGHT OF THE PEOPLE TO RULE 209 

O fair young mother! on thy brow 
Shall sit a nobler grace than now. 

Deep in the brightness of thy skies, 

The thronging years in glory rise, 

And, as they fleet, 

Drop strength and riches at thy feet. 

Thine eye with every coming hour, 

Shall brighten, and .thy form shall tower; 

And when thy sisters, elder born, 

Would brand thy name with words of scorn, 

Before thine eye 

Upon their lips the taunt shall die. 


THE RIGHT OF THE PEOPLE TO RULE 
Theodore Roosevelt 

Friends, our task as Americans is to strive for social 
and industrial justice, achieved through the genuine rule 
of the people. This is our end, our purpose. 

The methods for achieving the end are merely expedi¬ 
ents, to be finally accepted or rejected according as 
actual experience shows that they work well or ill. But 
in our hearts we must have this lofty purpose, and we 
must strive for it in all earnestness and sincerity, or our 
work will come to nothing. 

In order to succeed, we need leaders of inspired ideal¬ 
ism, leaders to whom are granted great visions, who 
dream greatly and strive to make their dreams come 
true; who can kindle the people with the fire from their 



210 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


own burning souls. The leader for the time being, who¬ 
ever he may be, is but an instrument, to be used until 
broken and then to be cast aside; and if he is worth his 
salt, he will care no more when he is broken than a sol¬ 
dier cares when he is sent where his life is forfeit in 
order that the victory may be won. In the long fight 
for righteousness the watchword for all of us is, spend 
and be spent. It is of little matter whether any one 
man fails or succeeds; but the cause shall not fail, for 
it is the cause of mankind. 

We, here in America, hold in our hands the hope of 
the world, the fate of the coming years; and shame and 
disgrace will be ours if in our eyes the light of high re¬ 
solve is dimmed, if we trail in the dust the golden hopes 
of men. If on this new continent we merely build 
another country of great but unjustly divided material 
prosperity, we shall have done nothing; and we shall 
do as little if we merely set the greed of envy against 
the greed of arrogance, and thereby destroy the material 
well-being of all of us. To turn this Government either 
into government by a plutocracy or government by a 
mob, would be to repeat on a larger scale the lamenta¬ 
ble failures of the world that is dead. 

We stand against all tyranny, by the few or by the 
many. We stand for the rule of the many in the interest 
of all of us, for the rule of the many in a spirit of courage, 
of common sense, of high purpose; above all, in a spirit 
of kindly justice toward every man and every woman. 
We not merely admit, but insist, that there must be self- 
control on the part of the people, that they must keenly 
perceive their own duties as well as the rights of others; 
but we also insist that the people can do nothing unless 


THE RIGHT OF THE PEOPLE TO RULE 211 


they not merely have, but exercise to the full, their own 
rights. 

The worth of our great experiment depends upon its 
being in good faith an experiment — the first that has 
ever been tried — in true democracy on the scale of a 
continent, on a scale as vast as that of the mightiest 
empires of the Old World. Surely this is a noble ideal, 
an ideal for which it is worth while to strive, an ideal 
for which at need it is worth while to sacrifice much; 
for our ideal is the rule of all the people in a spirit of 
friendliest brotherhood toward each and every one of 
the people. 

Study Helps 

This is from an address delivered at Carnegie Hall, New York City, 
March 20, 1912. It speaks of the true ideals of the American people 
in clear and forceful terms that are easily understood. It breathes 
forth a spirit of pure democracy, “the right of the people to rule,” 
but it also sets forth the duties and obligations of a people who would 
rule themselves. Read the entire speech and take to heart the fine 
lessons for American citizenship that it contains. 


The primal duty of Americans is never to forget that 
men are more than nations; that wisdom is more than 
glory, and virtue more than dominion of the sea. The 
greatness of a nation lies not in its bigness but in its 
justice, in the wisdom and virtue of its people, and in 
the prosperity of their individual affairs. The nation 
exists for its men, never the men for the nation. — David 
Starr Jordan. 


“The grandest heritage a hero can leave his race is to 
have been a hero.” 




212 THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 

THE VOICE OF THE PEOPLE 1 
Ellen Glasgow 

The last day of Circuit Court was over at Kings- 
borough. 

The jury had vanished from the semicircle of straight- 
backed chairs in the old court-house, the clerk had laid 
aside his pen along with his air of listless attention, and 
the judge was making his way through the straggling 
spectators to the sunken stone steps of the platform out¬ 
side. As the crowd in the doorway parted slightly, a 
breeze passed into the room, scattering the odors of 
bad tobacco and farm-stained clothing. The sound of a 
cow-bell came through one of the small windows, from 
the green beyond, where a red-and-white cow was brows¬ 
ing among the buttercups. 

“A fine day, gentlemen,” said the judge, bowing to 
right and left. “A fine day.” 

He moved slowly, fanning himself absently with his 
white straw hat, pausing from time to time to exchange 
a word of greeting — secure in the affability of one who 
is not only a judge of man but a Bassett of Virginia. 
From his classic head to his ill-fitting boots he upheld 
the traditions of his office and his race. 

On the stone platform, just beyond the entrance, he 
stopped to speak to a lawyer from a neighboring county. 
Then, as a clump of men scattered at his approach, he 
waved them together with a bland, benedictory gesture 
which descended alike upon the high and the low, upon 
the rector of the old church up the street, in his rusty 
1 Copyright by Doubleday, Page & Co. Used by permission. 







THE VOICE OF THE PEOPLE 


213 

black, and upon the red-haired, raw-boned farmer with 
his streaming brow. 

“Glad to see you out, sir,” he said to the one, and 
to the other, “How are you, Burr? Time the crops 
were in the ground, isn’t it?” 

Burr mumbled a confused reply, wiping his neck 
laboriously on his red cotton handkerchief. 

“The corn’s been planted goin’ on six weeks,” he said 
more distinctly, ejecting his words between mouthfuls 
of tobacco juice as if they were pebbles which obstructed 
his speech. “I al’ays stick to plantin’ yo’ corn when 
the hickory leaf’s as big as a squirrel’s ear. If you don’ 
the luck’s agin you.” 

“An’ whar thar’s growin’ corn thar’s a sight o’ hoein’,” 
put in an alert, nervous-looking countryman. “If I lay 
my hoe down for a spell, the weeds git so big I can’t 
find the crop.” 

Amos Burr nodded with slow emphasis: “I never see 
land take so natural to weeds nohow as mine do,” he 
said. “When you raise peanuts you’re raisin’ trouble.” 

He was a lean, overworked man, with knotted hands 
the color of the soil he tilled and an inanely honest face, 
over which the freckles showed like splashes of mud 
freshly dried. As he spoke he gave his blue jean trousers 
an abrupt hitch at the belt. 

“Dear me! Dear me!” returned the judge with ab¬ 
sent-minded, habitual friendliness, smiling his rich, benef¬ 
icent smile. Then, as he caught sight of a smaller red 
head beneath Burr’s arm, he added: “You’ve a right- 
hand man coming on, I see. What’s your name, my 
boy?” 

The boy squirmed on his bare, brown feet and wriggled 


214 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


his head from beneath his father’s arm. He did not 
answer, but he turned his bright eyes on the judge and 
flushed through all the freckles of his ugly little face. 

“Nick — that is, Nicholas, sir,” replied the elder Burr 
with an apologetic cough, due to the insignificance of 
the subject. “Yes, sir, he’s leetle, but he’s plum full of 
grit. He can beat any nigger I ever seed at the plow. 
He’d outplow me if he war a head taller.” 

“That will mend,” remarked the lawyer from the 
neighbouring county with facetious intention. “A boy 
and a beanstalk will grow, you know. There’s no help¬ 
ing it.” 

“Oh, he’ll be a man soon enough,” added the judge, 
his gaze passing over the large, red head to rest upon 
the small one, “and a farmer like his father before him, 
I suppose.” 

He was turning away when the child’s voice checked 
him, and he paused. 

“I — I’d ruther be a judge,” said the boy. 

He was leaning against the faded bricks of the old 
court-house, one sunburned hand playing nervously with 
the crumbling particles. His honest little face was as 
red as his hair. 

The judge started. 

“Ah!” he exclaimed, and he looked at the child with 
his kindly eyes. The boy was ugly, lean, and stunted 
in growth, browned by hot suns and powdered by the 
dust of country roads, but his eyes caught the gaze of 
the judge and held it. 

Above his head, on the brick wall, a board was nailed, 
bearing in black marking the name of the white-sand 
street which stretched like a chalk-drawn line from the 



THE VOICE OF THE PEOPLE 


2I 5 


grass-grown batt fields to the pale old buildings of 
King’s College. The street had been called in honour of 
a duke of Gloucester. It was now “Main” Street, and 
nothing more, though it was still wide and white and 
placidly impressed by the slow passage of Kingsborough 
feet. Beyond the court-house the breeze blew across 
the green, which was ablaze with buttercups. Beneath 
the warm wind the yellow heads assumed the effect of 
a brilliant tangle, spreading over the unploughed com¬ 
mon, running astray in the grass-lined ditch that bor¬ 
dered the walk, hiding beneath dusty-leaved plants in 
unsuspected hollows, and breaking out again under the 
horses’ hoofs in the sandy street. 

“Ah!” exclaimed the judge, and a good-natured laugh 
ran round the group. 

“Wall, I never!” ejaculated the elder Burr, but there 
was no surprise in his tone; it expressed rather the help¬ 
lessness of paternity. 

The boy faced them, pressing more firmly against the 
bricks. 

“There ain’t nothin’ in peanut-raisin’,” he said. “It’s 
jest farmin’ fur crows. I’d ruther be a judge.” 

The judge laughed and turned from him. 

“Stick to the soil, my boy,” he advised. “Stick to 
the soil. It is the best thing to do. But if you choose 
the second best, and I can help you, I will — I will, 
upon my word — Ah! General,” to a jovial-faced, wide- 
girthed gentleman in a brown linen coat, “I’m glad to 
see you in town. Fine weather!” 

He put on his hat, bowed again, and went on his way. 

He passed slowly along in the spring sunshine, his feet 
crunching upon the gravel, his straight shadow falling 


2l6 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


upon the white level between coarse fringes of wire- 
grass. Far up the town, at the street’s sudden end, 
where it was lost in diverging roads, there was visible, 
as through a film of bluish smoke, the verdigris-green 
foliage of King’s College. Nearer at hand the solemn 
cruciform of the old church was steeped in shade, the 
high bell-tower dropping a veil of English ivy as it rose 
against the sky. Through the rusty iron gate of the 
graveyard the marble slabs glimmered beneath submerg¬ 
ing grasses, long, pale, tremulous like reeds. 

The grass-grown walk beside the low brick wall of the 
churchyard led on to the judge’s ovm garden, a square 
enclosure, laid out in straight vegetable rows, marked 
off by variegated borders of flowering plants — hearts¬ 
ease, foxglove, and the red-lidded eyes of scarlet poppies. 
Beyond the feathery green of the asparagus bed there 
was a bush of flowering syringa, another at the beginning 
of the grass-trimmed walk, and yet another brushing the 
large white pillars of the square front porch — their 
slender sprays blown from sun to shade like fluttering 
streamers of cream-coloured ribbons. On the other 
side there were lilacs, stately and leafy and bare of 
bloom, save for a few ashen-hued bunches lingering late 
amid the heavy foliage. At the foot of the garden the 
wall was hidden in raspberry vines, weighty with ripen¬ 
ing fruit. 

The judge closed the gate after him and ascended the 
steps. It was not until he had crossed the wide hall and 
opened the door of his study that he heard the patter of 
bare feet, and turned to find that the boy had followed 
him. 

For an instant he regarded the child blankly; then his 


THE VOICE OF THE PEOPLE 217 

hospitality asserted itself, and he waved him courteously 
into the room. 

“Walk in, walk in, and take a seat. I am at your 
service.” 

He crossed to one of the tall windows, unfastening 
the heavy inside shutters, from which the white paint 
was fast peeling away. As they fell back a breeze filled 
the room, and the ivory faces of microphylla roses stared 
across the deep window-seat. The place was airy as a 
summer-house and odorous with the essence of roses dis¬ 
tilled in the sunshine beyond. On the high plastered 
walls, above the book-shelves, rows of bygone Bassetts 
looked down on their departed possessions — stately 
and severe in the artificial severity of periwigs and 
starched ruffles. They looked down with immobile eyes 
and the placid monotony of past fashions, smiling always 
the same smile, staring always at the same spot of floor 
or furniture. 

Below them the room was still hallowed by their 
touch. They asserted themselves in the quaint curves of 
the rosewood chairs, in the blue patterns upon the willow 
bowls, and in the choice lavender of the old Wedgewood. 
Their handiwork was visible in the laborious embroideries 
of the fire-screen near the empty grate, and the spinet 
in one unlighted corner still guarded their gay and 
amiable airs. 

“Sit down,” said the judge. “I am at your service.” 

He seated himself before his desk of hand-carved ma¬ 
hogany, pushing aside the papers that littered its baize- 
covered lid. In the half-gloom of the high-ceiled room, 
his face assumed the look of a portrait in oils, and he 
seemed to have descended from his allotted square upon 


2 l8 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


the plastered wall, to be but a boldly limned composite 
likeness of his race, awaiting the last touches and the 
gilded frame. 

“What can I do for you?” he asked again, his tone 
preserving its unfailing courtesy. He had not made an 
uncivil remark since the close of the war — a line of 
conduct resulting less from what he felt to be due to 
others than from what he believed to be becoming in 
himself. 

The boy shifted on his bare feet. In the old-timed 
setting of the furniture he was an alien — an anachro¬ 
nism — the intrusion of the hopelessly modern in the 
helplessly past. His hair made a rich spot in the colour¬ 
less atmosphere, and it seemed to focus the incoming 
light from the unshuttered window, leaving the back¬ 
ground in denser shadow. The animation of his features 
jarred the serenity of the room. His profile showed 
gnome-like against the nodding heads of the microphylla 
roses. 

“There ain’t nothin’ in peanut-raisin’,” he said sud¬ 
denly; “I—-I’d ruther be a judge.” 

“My dear boy!” exclaimed the judge, and finished 
helplessly, “ my dear boy — -I — • well —• I —” 

They were both silent. The regular droning of the 
old clock sounded distinctly in the stillness. The per¬ 
fume of roses, mingling with the musty scent from the 
furniture, borrowed the quality of musk. 

The child was breathing heavily. Suddenly he dug 
the dirty knuckles of one fist into his eyes. 

“Don’t cry,” began the judge. “Please don’t. Per¬ 
haps you would like to run out and play with my boy 
Tom?” 


THE VOICE OF THE PEOPLE 


219 


“I warn’t crying” said the child. “It war a gnat.” 
His hand left his eyes and returned to his hat — a 
wide-brimmed harvest hat, with a shoestring tied tightly 
round the crown. 

When the judge spoke again it was with seriousness. 
“Nicholas — your name is Nicholas, isn’t it?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“How old are you?” 

“Twelve, sir.” 

“Can you read?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Write?” 

“ Y-e-s, sir.” 

“Spell?” 

The child hesitated. “I — I can spell — some.” 
“Don’t you know it is a serious thing to be a judge?” 
“Yes, sir.” 

“You must be a lawyer first.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“It is hard work.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“And sometimes it’s no better than farming for crows.” 
The boy shook his head. “It’s cleaner work, sir.” 
The judge laughed. 

“I’m afraid you are obstinate, Nicholas,” he said, and 
added: “Now, what do you want me to do for you? 
I can’t make you a judge. It took me fifty years to 

make myself one — a third-rate one at that-” 

“I — I’d 1 -i-k-e to take a bo-b-o-o-k, ” stammered the 
boy. 

“Dear me!” said the judge irritably, “dear me!” 

He frowned, his gaze skimming his well-filled shelves. 


220 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


He regretted suddenly that he had spoken to the child 
at the court-house. He would never be guilty of such 
an indiscretion again. Of what could he have been 
thinking? A book! Why didn’t he ask for food — 
money—his best piece of fluted Royal Worcester? 

Then a loud, boyish laugh rang in from the garden, 
and his face softened suddenly. In the sun-scorched, 
honest-eyed little figure before him he saw his own boy 
— the single child of his young wife, who was lying be¬ 
neath a marble slab in the church-yard. Her face, mild 
and Madonna-like, glimmered against the pallid rose 
leaves in the deep window-seat. 

He turned hastily away. 

“Yes, yes,” he answered, “I will lend you one. Read 
the titles carefully. Don’t let the books fall. Never lay 
them face downwards — and don’t turn down the leaves!” 

The boy advanced timidly to the shelves between the 
southern windows. He ran. his hands slowly along the 
lettered backs, his lips moving as he spelled out the 
names. 

“The F-e-d-e-r-a-l-i-s-t,” “B-l-a-c-k-s-t-o-n-e-’s C-o-m- 
m-e-n-t-a-r-i-e-s,” “ R-e-v-i-s-e-d Sta-tu-tes of the U-ni-ted 
Sta-tes.” 

The judge drew up to his desk and looked over his 
letters. Then he took up his pen and wrote several 
replies in his fine, flowing handwriting. He had forgot¬ 
ten the boy, when he felt a touch upon his arm. 

“What is it?” he asked absently. “Ah, it is you? 
Yes, let me see. Why! you’ve got Sir Henry Maine!” 

The boy was holding the book in both hands. As 
the judge laughed he flushed nervously and turned to¬ 
wards the door. 


THE VOICE OF THE PEOPLE 221 

The judge leaned back in his chair, watching the small 
figure cross the room and disappear into the hall. He 
saw the tracks of dust which the boy’s feet left upon 
the smooth, bare floor, but he was not thinking of them. 
Then, as the child went out upon the porch, he started up. 

“Nicholas!” he called, “don’t turn down the leaves!” 

It was afternoon, and Kingsborough was asleep. 

Along the verdurous, gray lanes the houses seemed 
abandoned, shuttered, filled with shade. From the court¬ 
house green came the chime of cow-bells rising and fall¬ 
ing in slow waves of sound. A spotted calf stood bleat¬ 
ing in the crooked footpath, which traversed diagonally 
the waste of buttercups like a white seam in a cloth of 
gold. Against the arching sky rose the bell-tower of the 
grim old church, where the sparrows twittered in the 
melancholy gables and the startled face of the stationary 
clock stared blankly above the ivied walls. Farther 
away, at the end of a wavering lane, slanted the shadow 
of the insane asylum. 

Across the green the houses were set in surrounding 
gardens like cards in bouquets of mixed blossoms. They 
were of frame for the most part, with shingled roofs and 
small, square windows hidden beneath climbing roses. 
On one of the long verandas a sleeping girl lay in a ham¬ 
mock, a gray cat at her feet. No sound came from the 
house behind her, but a breeze blew through the dim 
hall, fluttering the folds of her dress. Beyond the ad¬ 
joining garden a lady in mourning entered a gate where 
honeysuckle grew, and above, on the low-dormered roof, 
a white pigeon sat preening its feathers. Up the main 
street, where a few sunken bricks of a vanished pave- 


222 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


ment were still visible, an old negro woman, sitting on 
the stone before her cabin, lighted her replenished pipe 
with a taper, and leaned back, smoking, in the doorway, 
her scarlet handkerchief making a spot of colour on the 
dull background. 

The sun was still high when the judge came out upon 
his porch, a smile of indecision on his face and his hat 
in his hand. Pausing upon the topmost step, he cast an 
uncertain glance sideways at the walk leading past the 
church, and then looked straight ahead through the 
avenue of maples, which began at the smaller green fac¬ 
ing the ancient site of the governor’s palace and skirted 
the length of the larger one, which took its name from 
the court-house. At last he descended the steps with his 
leisurely tread, turning at the gate to throw a remon¬ 
strance to an old negro whose black face was framed in 
the library window. 

“Now, Caesar, didn’t I - ” 

“Lord, Marse George, dis yer washed-out blue bowl, 
wid de little white critters sprawlin’ over it, done come 
ter pieces - ” 

“Now, Caesar, haven’t I told you twenty times to let 
Delilah wash my Wedgewood?” 

“Fo’ de Lord, Marse George, I ain’t breck hit. I uz 
des’ hol’n it in bofe my han’s same es I’se hol’n dis yer 
broom, w’en it come right ter part. I declar ’twarn my 
fault, Marse George, ’twarn nobody’s fault ’cep’n hit’s 
own.” 

The judge closed the gate and waved the face from the 
window. 

“Go about your business, Caesar,” he said, “and 
keep your hands off my china -” 




THE VOICE OF THE PEOPLE 


223 


He had gone but a short distance and was passing 
the iron gate of the churchyard, when the droning of a 
voice came to him, and looking beyond the bars, he saw 
little Nicholas Burr lying at full length upon a marble 
slab, his head in his hands and his feet waving in the 
air. 

Entering the gate, the judge followed the walk of 
moss-grown stones leading to the church steps, and 
paused within hearing of the voice, which went on in 
an abstracted drawl. 

“The most cel-e-bra-ted sys-tem of juris-pru-dence 

known to the world begins, as it ends, with a code *-” 

He was not reading, for the book was closed. He 
seemed rather to be repeating over and over again words 
which had been committed to memory. 

“With a code. From the commencement to the close 
of its history, the ex-posi-tors of Ro-man Law con¬ 
sistently em-ployed lan-guage which implied that the 
body of their sys-tem rested on the twelve De-cem-viral 
Tables — Dec-em-vi-ral — De-cem-vi-ral Tables.” 

“Bless my soul!” said the judge. The boy glanced 
up, blushed, and would' have risen, but the judge waved 
him back. 

“No — no, don’t get up. I heard you as I was going 
by. What are you doing?” 

“Learnin’.” 

“Learning! Dear me! What do you mean by 
learning? ” 

“I’m learnin’ by heart, sir — and — and, if you don’t 
mind, sir, what does j-u-r-i-s-p-r-u-d-e-n-c-e mean?” 

The judge started, returning the boy’s eager gaze 
with one of kindly perplexity. 


224 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


“Bless my soul!” he said again. “You aren’t trying 
to understand that, are you?” 

The boy grew scarlet and his lips trembled. 

“No, sir,” he answered. “I’m jest learnin’ it now. 
I’ll know what it means when I’m bigger-” 

“And you expect to remember it?” asked the judge. 

“I don’t never forget,” said the boy. 

“Bless my soul!” exclaimed the judge for the third 
time. 

For a moment he stood looking silently down upon 
the marble slab with its defaced lettering. Of the 
wordy epitaph which had once redounded to the honour 
of the bones beneath there remained only the words 
“who departed,” but he read these with a long ab¬ 
stracted gaze. 

“Let me see,” he said at last, speaking with his 
accustomed dignity. “Did you ever go to school, 
Nicholas?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“When?” 

“I went ’most three winters, sir, but I had to leave 
off on o’count o’ pa’s not havin’* any hand ’cep’n me.” 

The judge smiled. 

“Ah, well,” he returned. “We’ll see if you can’t 
begin again. My boy has a tutor, you know, and his 
playmates come to study with him. He’s about your 
age, and it will give you a start. Come in to-morrow 
at nine, and we’ll talk it over. No, don’t get up. I am 
going.” 

And he passed out of the churchyard, closing the 
heavy gate with a metallic clang. Nicholas lay on the 
marble slab, but the book slipped from his hands, and 



THE VOICE OF THE PEOPLE 


225 


he gazed straight before him at the oriel window, where 
the ivy was tremulous with the shining bodies and 
clamorous voices of nesting sparrows. 

Again he was returning to Kingsborough. The 
familiar landscape rushed by him on either side — 
green meadow and russet woodland, gray swamp and 
dwarfed brown hill, unploughed common and sun- 
ripened field of corn. It was like the remembered fea¬ 
tures of a friend, when the change that startles the un¬ 
accustomed eye seems to exist less in the well-known face 
than in the image we have carried in our thoughts. 

It was all there as it had been in his youth — the 
same and yet not the same. The old fields were tilled, 
the old lands ran waste in broomsedge, but he himself 
had left his boyhood far behind — it was his own vision 
that was altered, not the face of nature. The commons 
were not so wide as he had thought them, the hills not 
so high, the hollows not so deep — even the blue hori¬ 
zon had drawn a closer circle. 

A man on his way to the water-cooler stopped 
abruptly at his side. “Well, I declar, if ’taint the 
governor!” 

Nicholas looked up, and recognizing Jerry Pollard, 
shook his outstretched hand. “When did you leave 
Kingsborough?” he inquired. 

“Oh, I jest ran up this morning to lay in a stock 
of winter goods. Trade’s thriving this year, and you 
have to hustle if you want to keep up with the tastes of 
yo’ customers. Times have changed since I had you 
in my sto’.” 

“I dare say. I am glad to hear that you are doing 


226 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


well. Was the judge taken ill before you left Kings- 
borough?” 

“The judge? Is he sick? I ain’t heard nothin’ ’bout 
it. It wa’n’t more’n a week ago that I told him he was 
lookin’ as young as he did befo’ the war. It ain’t often 
a man can keep his youth like that — but his Caesar is 
just such another. Caesar was an old man as far back 
as I remember, and, bless you, he’s spryer than I am this 
minute. He’ll live to be a hundred and die of an accident.” 

“That’s good,” said the governor with rising interest. 
“ Kingsborough’s a fine place to grow old in. Did you 
bring any news up with you?” 

“Well, I reckon not. Things were pretty lively down 
there last night, but they’d quieted down this morn¬ 
ing. They brought a man over from Hagersville, you 
know, and befo’ I shut up sto’ last evening Jim Brown 
came to town, talkin’ mighty big ’bout stringin’ up the 
fellow. Jim always did talk, though, so nobody thought 
much of it. He likes to get his mouth in, but he’s 
right particular ’bout his hand. The sheriff said he 
warn’t lookin’ for trouble.” 

“I’m glad it’s over,” said the governor. The train 
was nearing Kingsborough, and as it stopped he rose 
and followed Jerry Pollard to the station. 

There was no one he knew in sight, and, with his 
bag in his hand, he walked rapidly to the judge’s 
house. His anxiety had caused him to quicken his 
pace, but when he had opened the gate and ascended the 
steps he hesitated before entering the hall, and his breath 
came shortly. Until that instant he had not realized 
the strength of the tie that bound him to the judge. 

The hall was dim and cool, as it had been that May 


THE VOICE OF THE PEOPLE 


227 


afternoon when his feet had left tracks of dust on the 
shining floor. Straight ahead he saw the garden, lying 
graceless and deserted, with the unkemptness of ex¬ 
treme old age. A sharp breeze blew from door to door, 
and the dried grasses on the wall stirred with a sound 
like that of the wind among a bed of rushes. 

He mounted the stairs slowly, the weight of his tread 
creaking the polished wood. Before the threshold of the 
judge’s room again he hesitated, his hand upraised. 
The house was so still that it seemed to be untenanted, 
and he shivered suddenly, as if the wind that rustled 
the dried grasses were a ghostly footstep. Then, as he 
glanced back down the wide old stairway, his own 
childhood looked up at him — an alien figure, half 
frightened by the silence. 

As he stood there the door opened noiselessly, and 
the doctor came out, peering with shortsighted eyes over 
his lowered glasses. When he ran against Nicholas he 
coughed uncertainly and drew back. “Well, well, if it 
isn’t the governor!” he said. “We have been looking 
for Tom — but our friend the judge is better — much 
better. I tell him he’ll live yet to see us buried.” 

A load passed suddenly from Nicholas’s mind. The 
ravaged face of the old doctor — with its wrinkled fore¬ 
head and its almost invisible eyes — became at once the 
mask of a good angel. He grasped the outstretched 
hand and crossed the threshold. 

The judge was lying among the pillows of his bed, 
his eyes closed, his great head motionless. There was 
a bowl of yellow chrysanthemums on a table beside him, 
and near it Mrs. Burwell was measuring dark drops into 
a wineglass. She looked up with a smile of welcome that 


228 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


cast a cheerful light about the room. Her smile and the 
color of the chrysanthemums were in Nicholas’s eyes 
as he went to the bed and laid his hand upon the still 
fingers that clasped the counterpane. 

The judge looked at him with a wavering recogni¬ 
tion. “Ah, it is you, Tom,” he said, and there was a 
yearning in his voice that fell like a gulf between him 
and the man who was not his son. At the moment it 
came to Nicholas with a great bitterness that his share 
of the judge’s heart was the share of an outsider — the 
crumbs that fall to the beggar that waits beside the 
gate. When the soul has entered the depths and looks 
back again it is the face of its own kindred that it craves 
— the responsive throbbing of its own blood in an¬ 
other’s veins. This was Tom’s place, not his. 

He leaned nearer, speaking in an expressionless 
voice. “It’s I, sir — Nicholas — Nicholas Burr.” 

“Yes, Nicholas,” repeated the judge doubtfully; 
“yes, I remember, what does he want? Amos Burr’s 
son — we must give him a chance.” 

For a moment he wandered on; then his memory 
returned in uncertain pauses. He looked again at the 
younger man, his sight grown stronger. “Why, Nich¬ 
olas, my dear boy, this is good of you,” he exclaimed. 
“I had a fall — a slight fall of no consequence. I shall 
be all right if Caesar will let me fast a while. Caesar’s 
getting old, I fear, he moves so slowly.” 

He was silent, and Nicholas, sitting beside the bed, 
kept his eyes on the delicate features that were the lin¬ 
gering survival of a lost type. The splendid breadth 
of the brow, the classic nose, the* firm, thin lips, and the 
shaven chin — these were all downstairs on faded can- 


THE VOICE OF THE PEOPLE 229 

vases, magnificent over lace ruffles, or severe above 
folded stocks. Over the pillows the chrysanthemums 
shed a golden light that mingled in his mind with the 
warm brightness of Mrs. BurwelPs smile — giving the 
room the festive glimmer of an autumn garden. 

A little later Caesar shuffled forward, the wineglass 
in his hand. The judge turned towards him. “ Is that 
you, Caesar?” he asked. 

The old negro hurried to the bedside. “Here I is, 
Marse George; I’se right yer.” 

The judge laughed softly. “I wouldn’t take five 
thousand dollars for you, Caesar,” he said. “Tom 
Battle offered me one thousand for you, and I told 
him I wouldn’t take five. You are worth it, Caesar 
— every cent of it — but there’s no man alive shall 
own you. You’re free, Caesar — do you hear, you’re free! ” 

“Thanky, Marse George,” said Caesar. He passed 
his arm under the judge’s head and raised him as he 
would a child. As the glass touched his lips the judge 
spoke in a clear voice. “To the ladies!” he cried. 

“He is regaining the use of his limbs,” whispered 
Mrs. Burwell softly. “He will be well again,” and 
Nicholas left the room and went downstairs. At the 
door he gave his instructions to a woman servant. “I 
shall return to spend the night,” he said. “You will 
see that my room is ready. Yes, I’ll be back to supper.” 
He had had no dinner, but at the moment this was for¬ 
gotten. In the relief that had come to him he wanted 
solitude and the breadth of the open fields. He was 
going over the old ground again — to breathe the air 
and feel the dust of the Old Stage Road. 

He passed the naked walls of the church and fol- 


230 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


lowed the wide white street to the college gate. Then 
turning, he faced the way to his father’s farm and the 
distant pines emblazoned on the west. 

A clear gold light flooded the landscape, warming 
the pale dust of the deserted road. The air was keen 
with the autumn tang, and as he walked the quick 
blood leaped to his cheeks. He was no longer con¬ 
scious of his forty years — his boyhood was with him, 
and middle age was a dream, or less than a dream. In 
his nostrils was the keen sweetness of old-fashioned 
flowers, but his thoughts were not of them, and, turn¬ 
ing presently, he went back as he had come. It was 
dark when at last he reached the judge’s house and sat 
down to supper. 

He was with the judge until midnight, when, before 
going to his room, he descended the stairs and went out 
upon the porch. He had been thinking of the elections 
three days hence, and the outcome seemed to him more 
hopeful than it had done when he first came forward 
as a candidate. The uncertainty was almost as great, 
this he granted; but behind him he believed to be the 
pressure of the people’s will — which the schemes of 
politicians had not turned. Tuesday would prove noth¬ 
ing— nor had the conventions that had been held; 
when the meeting of the caucus came, he would still 
be in ignorance — unaware of traps that had been laid 
or surprises to be sprung. It was the mark to which 
his ambition had aimed — the end to which his career 
had faced — that now rose before him, and yet in his 
heart there was neither elation nor distrust. He had 
done his best — he had fought fairly and well, and he 
awaited what the day might bring forth. 



THE VOICE OF THE PEOPLE 


231 


Above him a full moon was rising, and across the 
green the crooked path wound like a silver thread, 
leading to the glow of a night-lamp that burned in a 
sick-room. The night, the air, the shuttered houses 
were as silent as the churchyard, where the tomb¬ 
stones glimmered, row on row. Only somewhere on the 
vacant green a hound bayed at the moon. 

He looked out an instant longer, and was turning 
back, when his eye caught a movement among the 
shadows in the distant lane. A quick thought came 
to him, and he kept his gaze beneath the heavy maples, 
where the moonshine fell in flecks. For a moment all 
was still, and then into the light came the figure 
of a man. Another followed, another, and another, 
passing again into the dark and then out into the 
brightness that led into the little gully far beyond. 
There was no sound except the baying of the dog; 
the figures went on, noiseless and orderly and grim, 
from dark to light and from light again to dark. There 
were at most a dozen men, and they might have been 
a band of belated workmen returning to their homes or 
a line of revellers that had been sobered into silence. 
They might have been — but a sudden recollection came 
to him, and he closed the door softly and went out. 
There was but one thing that it meant; this he knew. 
It meant a midnight attack on the gaol, and a man 
dead before morning, who must die anyway — it meant 
vengeance so quiet yet so determined that it was as 
sure as the hand of God — and it meant the defiance 
of laws whose guardian he was. 

He broke into a run, crossing the green and follow¬ 
ing the path that rose and fell into the gullies as it 


232 THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 

led on to the gaol. As he ran he saw the glow of the 
night-lamp in the sick-room, and he heard the insistent 
baying of the hound. 

The moonlight was thick and full. It showed the 
quiet hill flanked by the open pasture; and it showed 
the little whitewashed gaol, and the late roses bloom¬ 
ing on the fence. It showed also the mob that had 
gathered — a gathering as quiet as a congregation 
at prayer. But in the silence was the danger — 
the determination to act that choked back speech — 
the grimness of the justice that walks at night — the 
triumph of a lawless rage that knows control. 

As he reached the hill he saw that the men he had 
followed had been enforced by others from different 
roads. It was not an outbreak of swift desperation, 
but a well-planned, well-ordered strategy; it was not 
a mob that he faced, but an incarnate vengeance. 

He came upon it quickly, and as he did so he saw 
that the sheriff was ahead of him, standing, a single 
man, between his prisoner and the rope. “For God’s 
sake, men, I haven’t got the keys,” he called out. 

Nicholas swung himself over the fence and made 
his way to the entrance beneath the steps that led 
to the floor above. He had come as one of the men 
about him, and they had not heeded him. Now, as he 
faced them from the shadow he saw here and there a 
familiar face — the face of a boy he had played with in 
childhood. Several were masked, but the others raised 
bare features to the moonlight — features that were as 
familiar as his own. Then he stood up and spoke. 

“Men, listen to me. In the name of the Law, I 
swear to you that justice shall be done — I swear.” 


THE VOICE OF THE PEOPLE 


2 33 


A voice came from somewhere. “We ain’t here to 
talk — you stand aside, and we’ll show you what we’re 
here for.” 

Again he began. “I swear to you - ” 

“We don’t want no swearing.” On the outskirts 
of the crowd a man laughed. “We don’t want no 
swearing,” the voice repeated. 

The throng pressed forward, and he saw the faces 
that he knew crowding closer. A black cloud shut 
out the moonlight. Above the pleading of the sheriff’s 
tones he heard the distant baying of the hound. 

He tried to speak again. “We’ll be damned, but 
we’ll get the nigger!” called some one beside him. 
The words struck him like a blow. He saw red, and 
the sudden rage upheld him. He knew that he was 
to fight — a blind fight for he cared not what. The 
old savage instinct blazed within him — the instinct 
to do battle to death — to throttle with his single 
hand the odds that opposed. With a grip of iron he 
braced himself against the doorway, covering the 
entrance. 

“I’ll be damned if you do!” he thundered. 

A quick shot rang out sharply. The flash blinded 
him, and the smoke hung in his face. Then the 
moon shone and he heard a cry — the cry of a well- 
known voice. 

“By God, it’s Nick Burr!” it said. He took a step 
forward. 

“Boys, I am Nick Burr,” he cried, and he went down 
in the arms of the mob. 

They raised him up, and he stood erect between 
the leaders. There was blood on his lips, but a man 



234 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


tore off a mask and wiped it away. “By God, it’s 
Nick Burr!” he exclaimed as he did so. 

Nicholas recognized his voice and smiled. His face 
was gray, but his eyes were shining, and as he steadied 
himself with all his strength, he said with a laugh, 
“There’s no harm done, man.” But when they laid 
him down a moment later he was dead. 

He lay in the narrow path between the doorstep 
and the gate where roses bloomed. Some one had 
started for the nearest house, but the crowd stood 
motionless about him. “By God, it’s Nick Burr!” 
repeated the man who had held him. 

The sheriff knelt on the ground and raised him in 
his arms. As he folded his coat about him he looked 
up and spoke. 

“And he died for a brute,” was what he said. 

Study Helps and Questions 

The selection given here is taken from the novel, The Voice of the 
People, by Ellen Glasgow. It is a splendid story of Virginia life at the 
period following the close of the Civil War. It portrays the differences 
that existed between “quality folks” and the people of humble birth, 
and the struggle that followed in the adjustment of life to new condi¬ 
tions. In the character of Nicholas Burr, we have a fine example of 
the real American who by hard struggle and earnest application to 
work, raises himself from a humble farmer to the highest position in 
his state. His death in defense of the law he had sworn to uphold 
makes him a great man, great in his devotion to duty and to the high 
ideals of a true American citizen. 

1. The story begins with a description of the last day of court in 

Kingsborough. Compare the Judge and the humble farmers 
who had attended the court. Why had so many people 
assembled on “Court Day”? What is meant by Circuit 
Court? 

2. Describe little Nicholas Burr. Tell the story of his meeting 

with the Judge and the events that followed. How did Nicho- 


CARRY ON! 


2 35 


las get an education? What lessons can be learned from his 
success, handicapped as he was by poverty and humble posi¬ 
tion? To what position of honor did he attain? 

3. Tell the story of his return to Kingsborough. He came because 

of the illness of the Judge who had befriended him. What 
fine traits of character does this show? 

4. Tell the story of his death. He died for a principle. What 

lesson can be learned from his heroic sacrifice? 


CARRY ON! 

Robert W. Service 

It’s easy to fight when everything’s right, 

And you’re mad with the thrill and the glory; 

It’s easy to cheer when victory’s near, 

And wallow in fields that are gory. 

It’s a different song when everything’s wrong, 
When you’re feeling infernally mortal; 

When it’s ten against one, and hope there is none, 
Buck up, little soldier, and chortle: 

Carry on! Carry on! 

There isn’t much punch in your blow, 

You’re glaring and staring and hitting out blind; 
You’re muddy and bloody, but never you mind. 
Carry on! Carry on! 

You haven’t the ghost of a show. 

It’s looking like death, but while you’ve a breath, 
Carry on, my son! Carry on! 

And so in the strife of the battle of life 
It’s easy to fight when you’re winning; 

It’s easy to slave, and starve and be brave 
When the dawn of success is beginning. 



236 THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 

But the man who can meet despair and defeat 
With a cheer, there’s a man of God’s choosing; 

The man who can fight to Heaven’s own height 
Is the man who can fight when he’s losing. 

Carry on! Carry on! 

Things never were looming so black. 

But show that you haven’t a cowardly streak, 

And though you’re unlucky you never are weak. 

Carry on! Carry on! 

Brace up for another attack. 

It’s looking like hell, but — you never can tell: 

Carry on, old man! Carry on! 

There are some who drift out in the deserts of doubt, 

And some who in brutishness wallow; 

There are others, I know, who in piety go 
Because of a Heaven to follow. 

But to labor with zest, and to give of your best, 

For the sweetness and joy of the giving; 

To help folks along with a hand and a song; 

Why, there’s the real sunshine of living. 

Carry on! Carry on! 

Fight the good fight and true; 

Believe in your mission, greet life with a cheer; 

There’s big work to do, and that’s why you are here. 

Carry on! Carry on! 

Let the world be the better for you; 

And at last when you die, let this be your cry: 

Carry on , my soul! Carry on! 

Study Helps 

This poem is from Rhymes of a Red Cross Man by Robert Service, 
who is sometimes called “the American Kipling.” It is one of the most 
forceful and spirited poems of the recent war, and contains a message for 
the strife of everyday life, as well as for the struggle on the battlefield. 


RECESSIONAL 


237 


THE SHIP OF STATE 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 

Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State! 

Sail on, O Union, strong and great! 
Humanity with all its fears, 

With all the hopes of future years, 

Is hanging breathless on thy fate! 

We know what Master laid thy keel, 

What Workmen wrought thy ribs of steel, 
Who made each mast, and sail, and rope, 
What anvils rang, what hammers beat, 

In what a forge and what a heat, 

Were shaped the anchors of thy hope! 

Fear not each sudden sound and shock, 

’Tis of the wave and not the rock; 

’Tis but the flapping of the sail, 

And not a rent made by the gale! 

In spite of rock and tempest’s roar, 

In spite of false lights on the shore, 

Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea! 

Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee, 
Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears, 
Our faith triumphant o’er our fears, 

Are all with thee — are all with thee! 


RECESSIONAL 

Rudyard Kipling 

God of our fathers, known of old — 
Lord of our far-flung battle line — 
Beneath Whose awful Hand we hold 
Dominion over palm and pine — 



238 


THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA 


Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, 

Lest we forget — lest we forget! 

The tumult and the shouting dies —■ 

The captains and the kings depart; 

Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice, 

An humble and a contrite heart. 

Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, 

Lest we forget — lest we forget! 

Far called our navies melt away — 

On dune and headland sinks the fire — 

Lo, all our pomp of yesterday 
Is one with Nineveh and Tyre! 

Judge of the Nations, spare us yet, 

Lest we forget — lest we forget! 

If, drunk with sight of power, we loose 

Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe — 

Such boasting as the Gentiles use, 

Or lesser breeds without the law — 

Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, 

Lest we forget — lest we forget! 

For heathen heart that puts her trust 
In reeking tube and iron shard — 

All valiant dust that builds on dust, 

And guarding calls not Thee to guard — 

For frantic boast and foolish word, 

Thy mercy on Thy people, Lord! 

Amen! 

Study Helps and Questions 

This poem was written by Rudyard Kipling to celebrate Queen 
Victoria’s Jubilee, a celebration marking the close of the sixtieth year 
of her reign. The poem came at the close of the Jubilee, which had been 


RECESSIONAL 


239 

a particularly brilliant celebration. In the midst of all their pomp and 
power, Kipling feared that his people had lost sight of the “God of 
Hosts,” and the poem is virtually a prayer. Its appeal is universal, and 
it has become one of the best known poems in our language. 

1. On what occasion was “The Recessional” written? What is 
a recessional? Why did Kipling choose this title for his 
poem? 

2. What expressions in the first stanza show the extent of the Brit¬ 
ish empire? 

3. Why does the poet speak of “a humble and contrite heart” 

as an “ancient sacrifice”? 

4. Explain the Biblical reference made to Nineveh and Tyre in 

the third stanza. 

5. Why would only a “heathen heart” put its trust in its own 

power and not in God? 

6. What universal lesson is contained in this poem? 


But the right is more precious than peace, and we 
shall fight for the things that we carry nearest our 
hearts — for democracy, for the right of those who sub¬ 
mit to authority to have a voice in their own govern¬ 
ments, for the rights and liberties of small nations, for 
a universal dominion of right by such a concert of free 
people as shall bring peace and safety to all nations and 
make the world itself at last free. To such a task we 
can dedicate our lives and our fortunes, everything that 
we are and everything that we have, with the pride of 
those who know that the day has come when America 
is privileged to spend her blood and her might for the 
principles that gave her birth and happiness and the 
peace which she has treasured. God helping her, she 
can do no other! — From President Wilson’s Address to 
Congress. 









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PATRIOTISM IN SONG 

Let music swell the breeze, 
And ring from all the trees 
Sweet freedom’s song; 

Let mortal tongues awake, 

Let all that breathe partake, 
Let rocks their silence break, 
The sound prolong. 


PATRIOTISM IN SONG 


Foreword 
I hear America singing. 

— Walt Whitman. 

Song plays a wonderful part in the life of man, individually and 
collectively. The soldier sings as he goes into battle, and the “war 
songs” are as much a part of his victory as his feats of arms. He 
sings to keep up his courage in the face of certain defeat, and he sings 
when he is cold and hungry, and his song takes the place of fire and 
food. The soldier feels the need of song to express his joy or comfort, 
his sorrow, and to keep up his courage. 

The finest emotions of any people are expressed in song, and when 
the song has for its theme the love of country, it is raised out of the 
realm of simple emotion, and becomes sacred in its sentiment. 

The national song of any people is virtually a prayer, and it should 
always be sung with the reverence of a true devotion to the “Master 
of all music.” 









SAMUEL F. SMITH 
Author of “America” 
















AMERICA 

Samuel F. Smith 

My country, ’tis of thee, 
Sweet land of liberty, 

Of thee I sing; 

Land where my fathers died, 
Land of the Pilgrim’s pride, 
From ev’ry mountain side, 
Let freedom ring. 

My native country, thee, 
Land of the noble free, 

Thy name I love; 

I love thy rocks and rills, 

Thy woods and templed hills, 
My heart with rapture thrills, 
Like that above. 

Let music swell the breeze, 
And ring from all the trees, 
Sweet freedom’s song; 

Let mortal tongues awake, 
Let all that breathe partake, 
Let rocks their silence break, 
The sound prolong. 

Our father’s God, to thee, 
Author of liberty: 

To Thee we sing; 

243 


244 


PATRIOTISM IN SONG 


Long may our land be bright, 

With freedom’s holy light, 

Protect us by Thy might, 

Great God, our King! 

Study Helps 

“America” was written by the Reverend Samuel Francis Smith, 
while he was a student at Andover Seminary, Massachusetts. One 
February day in 1832, he was looking over a collection of song-books, 
selecting such music as pleased him, when he came to the song “ God 
Save the King.” The music inspired him to write words with the ring 
of pure American patriotism and adapt them to the old tune. The 
song was first publicly sung at a Sunday School celebration on July 
4, in Boston. It has secured a permanent place in the hearts of Ameri¬ 
can people. 


THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER 
Francis Scott Key 

Oh! say, can you see, by the dawn’s early light, 

What so proudly we hailed at the twilight’s last gleaming, 
Whose broad stripes and bright stars thro’ the perilous fight, 
O’er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming? 
And the rocket’s red glare, the bombs bursting in air, 

Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there. 

Oh! say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave 
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave? 

On the shore dimly seen thro’ the mist of the deep, 

Where the foe’s haughty host in dread silence reposes, 

What is that which the breeze o’er the towering steep, 

As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses? 

Now it catches the gleam of the morning’s first beam, 

In full glory reflected, now shines in the stream. 

’Tis the star-spangled banner, oh! long may it wave 
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave. 



RED, WHITE, AND BLUE 


245 


Oh! thus be it ever when free men shall stand, 

Between their lov’d home and the war’s desolation, 

Blest with vict’ry and peace, may the heav’n-rescued land, 
Praise the pow’r that has made and preserved us a Nation. 
Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just, 

And this be our motto: “In God is our trust;” 

And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave 
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave. 

Study Helps 

“The Star-Spangled Banner” was written by Francis Scott Key 
of Maryland under very unusual circumstances. During the war of 
1812, a British fleet was preparing to attack Fort McHenry, which de¬ 
fended Baltimore. Just prior to the bombardment, Key had obtained 
permission from the American authorities to go under a flag of truce to 
secure the release of a friend held a prisoner by the British. All during 
the attack on Fort McHenry, Key and his friend were detained as 
prisoners on board a small boat moored to the enemy’s flagship. As 
the night fell, Key could see by the “rocket’s red glare” that our flag 
still floated above the fort. The firing ceased just after midnight, and 
Key waited anxiously for the dawn, not knowing whether the attack 
had succeeded or failed. When the mists lifted, he beheld “that our 
flag was still there.” Thrilled with patriotic emotion, he wrote the open¬ 
ing lines of our national hymn on the back of an old letter. On his re¬ 
turn to Baltimore he completed the song, which was printed on hand¬ 
bills on which was also indicated the tune “Anacreon in Heaven,” a 
popular English song, well adapted to the metre of Key’s verses. 
The song became popular immediately. It has never ceased to thrill 
Americans, and has become our national hymn. An American flag al¬ 
ways floats over the grave of Francis Scott Key in Frederick, Maryland. 


RED, WHITE, AND BLUE 

D. T. Shaw — Thomas A. Becket 

O Columbia! the gem of the ocean, 

The home of the brave and the free, 
The shrine of each patriot’s devotion, 

A world offers homage to thee. 



246 


PATRIOTISM IN SONG 


Thy mandates make heroes assemble, 

When Liberty’s form stands in view, 

Thy banners make tyranny tremble, 

When borne by the red, white and blue. 

When war waged its wide desolation, 

And threatened the land to deform, 

The ark then of freedom’s foundation, 

Columbia, rode safe through the storm; 

With the garlands of vict’ry around her, 

When so proudly she bore her brave crew, 

With her flag proudly floating before her, 

The boast of the red, white and blue. 

The star-spangled banner bring hither 
O’er Columbia’s true sons let it wave; 

May the wreaths they have won never wither, 
Nor its stars cease to shine on the brave. 

May the service united ne’er sever, 

But they to their colors prove true! 

The Army and Navy forever, 

Three cheers for the red, white and blue! 


Study Helps 

This song is sometimes called “The Red, White, and Blue” and 
sometimes “Columbia, Gem of the Ocean.” There, is much discussion 
about the origin of the song and its authorship has not been settled. 
It is probable that the tune is an English one. The American words 
are most likely the work of Thomas A. Becket, an Englishman who 
lived in Philadelphia, though the words are also attributed to David 
T. Shaw, an actor, who first used the song at a benefit performance. 
Still another claimant to the authorship of this popular American song 
is Timothy Dwight, a chaplain in a Connecticut regiment in the Revo¬ 
lutionary War. 


DIXIE 


247 


DIXIE 

Dan Emmet 

I wish I was in de land ob cotton, 

Old times dar am not forgotten, 

Look away, look away, look away, Dixie land. 

In Dixie land whar I was born in, 

Early on one frosty mornin’, 

Look away, look away, look away, Dixie land. 

Chorus. — Den I wish I was in Dixie, Hooray! Hooray! 
In Dixie land I’ll take my stand, 

To lib and die in Dixie, 

Away, away, away down South in Dixie. 
Away, away, away down South in Dixie. 

Old Missus marry “Will de Weaber,” 

Willium was a gay deceaber, 

Look away, look away, look away, Dixie land. 

But when he put his arms around ’er, 

He smiled as fierce as a forty-pounder, 

Look away, look away, look away, Dixie land. — Chorus. 

His face was sharp as a butcher’s cleaber, 

But dat did not seem to greab ’er, 

Away, away, away down South in Dixie land. 

Old Missus acted de foolish part, 

And died for a man dat broke her heart, 

Look away, look away, look away, Dixie land. — Chorus. 

Now here’s a health to the next old Missus 
And all de gals dat want to kiss us; 

Look away, look away, look away, Dixie land. 

But if you want to drive ’way sorrow, 

Come and hear dis song tomorrow, 

Look away, look away, look away, Dixie land. — Chorus. 


248 


PATRIOTISM IN SONG 


Dar’s buckwheat cakes and Injun batter, 

Makes you fat or a little fatter; 

Look away, look away, look away, Dixie land. 

Den hoe it down and scratch your grabble, 

To Dixie’s land I’m bound to trabble, 

Look away, look away, look away, Dixie land. — Chorus . 

Study Helps 

“Dixie” was written as a “walk around” by Dan Emmet for 
Bryant’s minstrel show, and was first sung in a Broadway theater in 
New York several years before the Civil War. Dan Emmet was born in 
Ohio, and the most popular song of the South was therefore of Northern 
origin. Despite this fact, it was the principal war song of the Con¬ 
federate forces. It is now almost as popular in the North as in the 
South. 


MARYLAND, MY MARYLAND 
James Ryder Randall 

Thou wilt not cower in the dust, 
Maryland, my Maryland. 

Thy gleaming sword shall never rust, 
Maryland, my Maryland. 

Remember Carroll’s sacred trust, 
Remember Howard’s warlike thrust, 
And all the slumb’rers with the just, 
Maryland, my Maryland. 

Thou wilt not yield the vandal toll 
Maryland, my Maryland. 

Thou wilt not crook to his control, 
Maryland, my Maryland. 

Better the fire upon thee roll, 

Better the shot, the blade, the bowl, 
Than crucifixion of the soul, 

Maryland, my Maryland. 



FIRMLY STAND, MY NATIVE LAND 


249 


I see no blush upon thy cheek, 

Maryland, my Maryland. 

Tho’ thou wast ever bravely meek, 

Maryland, my Maryland. 

For life and death, for woe and weal, 

Thy peerless chivalry reveal, 

And gird thy beauteous limbs with steel, 

Maryland, my Maryland. 

I hear the distant thunder hum, 

Maryland, my Maryland. 

The Old Line bugle, fife and drum, 

Maryland, my Maryland. 

Come to thine own heroic throng, 

That stalks with Liberty along, 

And ring thy dauntless slogan song, 

Maryland, my Maryland. 

Study Helps 

This song was called by Alexander H. Stephens “the Marseillaise 
of the Confederacy.” It was written by James Ryder Randall, a native 
of Maryland, who at the time of its writing was living in New Orleans. 
It was sung to the tune of an old German student song entitled “O 
Tannenbaum.” A less spirited version of this song was sung in the 
North, so that it became popular both in the North and the South, 
and though belonging to the period of the Civil War it is still sung by 
all Americans. 


FIRMLY STAND, MY NATIVE LAND 

Firmly stand, firmly stand, my native land, 
Firmly stand, firmly stand, my native land, 

Free in heart and true in hand, 

All that’s lovely cherish; 

Thus shall God remain thy friend, 

Then shall heav’n thy walls defend, 

Freedom, Freedom, Freedom shall not perish; 



250 


PATRIOTISM IN SONG 


Firmly stand, firmly stand, firmly stand, 

Firmly stand, my native land, my native land. 

Safely dwell, safely dwell, my native land, 

Safely dwell, safely dwell, my native land, 

May thy sons united stand, 

Firm and true forever; 

God forbid the day should rise, 

When ’tis said our freedom dies. 

Freedom, Freedom, Freedom die? Oh, never; 
Safely dwell, safely dwell, safely dwell, 

Safely dwell, safely dwell, my native land. 

Sing for joy, sing for joy, my native land, 

Sing for joy, sing for joy, my native land, 

In thee dwells a noble bank, 

All thy weal to cherish; 

While thy steps in truth are found 

Freedom, Freedom, Freedom shall not perish; 
Sing for joy, sing for joy, sing for joy, 

Sing for joy, my native land, my native land! 


HAIL! COLUMBIA 

J. Hopkinson 

Hail! Columbia, happy land! 

Hail! ye heroes, heav’n born band, 

Who fought and bled in freedom’s cause, 
Who fought and bled in freedom’s cause, 
And when the storm of war was gone, 
Enjoyed the peace your valor won; 

Let independence be your boast, 

Ever mindful what it cost, 

Ever grateful for the prize, 

Let its altar reach the skies. 



HAIL! COLUMBIA 


25i 


Chorus . — Firm, united let us be, 

Rallying ’round our liberty, 

As a band of brothers joined, 
Peace and safety we shall find. 

Immortal patriots, rise once more! 

Defend your rights, defend your shore; 

Let no rude foe with impious hand, 

Let no rude foe with impious hand, 

Invade the shrine where sacred lies, 

Of toil and blood, the well earned prize; 
While off’ring peace, sincere and just, 

In heaven we place a manly trust, 

That truth and justice may prevail 

And ev’ry scheme of bondage fail! — Chorus. 

Sound, sound the trumpet of fame! 

Let Washington’s great name 

Ring thro the world with loud applause! 

Ring thro the world with loud applause! 

Let ev’ry clime, to freedom dear, 

Listen with a joyful ear; 

With equal skill, with steady power, 

He governs in the fearful hour 

Of horrid war, or guides with ease 

The happier time of honest peace. — Chorus. 

Behold the chief who now commands, 

Once more to serve his country stands, 

The rock on which the storm will beat! 

The rock on which the storm will beat! 

But armed in virtue, firm and true, 

His hopes are fixed on heav’n and you; 
When hope was sinking in dismay, 

When gloom obscured Columbia’s day, 

His steady mind from changes free, 

Resolved on death or Liberty. — Chorus. 


252 


PATRIOTISM IN SONG 


Study Helps 

In the early days of our Republic, a new patriotic song was hailed 
with delight. It was due to this fact, perhaps, that “Hail Columbia” 
owed its popularity in the beginning. 

The song was written in 1789 by Joseph Hopkinson, a brilliant lawyer 
of Philadelphia, to accommodate an actor friend named Gilbert Fox. 
Fox was going to give a benefit play at a theatre in Philadelphia, and 
he felt that a new patriotic song would insure the success of his per¬ 
formance. The words were adapted to the music of “The President’s 
March,” which had been composed a few years before in honor of 
Washington’s inauguration. 

The song was a great success from the first time it was sung. It had 
a decided political effect in producing a more purely national spirit at 
a time when both England and France were trying to entangle us in a 
foreign alliance. It is now one of our most popular patriotic songs. 


KELLER’S AMERICAN HYMN 
M. Keller 

Speed our Republic, O Father on high, 

Lead us in pathways of justice and right; 

Rulers as well as the ruled, one and all, 
Girdle with virtue the armor of might! 

Hail! three times hail to our country and flag. 
Rulers as well as the ruled, one and all. 

Foremost in battle, for Freedom’s stand, 

We rush to arms when aroused by its call; 

Still as of yore when George Washington led, 
Girdle with virtue the armor of might! 

Hail! three times hail to our country and flag! 
Still as of yore when George Washington led. 



WE’RE TENTING TONIGHT 


253 


Rise up, proud eagle, rise up to the clouds, 

Spread thy broad wing o’er this fair western world! 

Fling from thy beak our dear banner of old! 

Show that it still is for freedom unfurled! 

Hail, three times hail to our country and flag! 

Fling from thy beak our dear banner of old. 

Study Helps 

This song was written during the Civil War by a poor old composer 
named Matthias Keller, who lived in Boston. Like most composers 
of his day, he tried to write a “War Song,” but his work attracted only 
temporary notice. A few years after the war it was revived by the 
chorus of the “Gilmore Peace Jubilee,” a band of singers organized 
by an enterprising Irishman to sing patriotic songs in honor of the 
reunion of the States. Thus, what was meant for a war song became 
in reality a song of peace. 


WE’RE TENTING TONIGHT 
Walter Kettredge 

We’re tenting tonight on the old camp ground, 

Give us a song of cheer, 

Our weary hearts, a song of home, 

And friends we love so dear. 

Chorus. — Many are the hearts that are weary tonight, 
Wishing for the war to cease, 

Many are the hearts looking for the right, 

To see the dawn of peace. 

Tenting tonight, tenting tonight, 

Tenting on the old camp ground. 

We’ve been tenting tonight on the old camp ground, 
Thinking of the days gone by, 

Of the loved ones at home that gave us the hand, 

And the tear that said good-bye. — Chorus. 



PATRIOTISM IN SONG 


254 


We are tired of war on the old camp ground, 

Many are dead and gone, 

Of the brave and true who’ve left their homes, 

Others been wounded long. — Chorus. 

We’ve been fighting today on the old camp ground, 

Many are lying near; 

Some are dead and some are dying, 

Many are in tears. 

Chorus. — Many are the hearts that are weary tonight, 
Wishing for the war to cease; 

Many are the hearts looking for the right, 

To see the dawn of peace. 

Dying tonight, dying tonight, 

Dying on the old camp ground. 

Study Helps 

Both the words and music of this popular war song were written 
by Walter Kettredge of New Hampshire. In 1862 he was drafted, and 
while preparing to go to the front he composed the song. At first it 
was refused publication, but later it gained an immense popularity 
which continues to the present day. 


MARSEILLAISE 

National Hymn of France 

Rouget De Lisle 

Ye sons of France, awake to glory! 

Hark! Hark! What myriads bid you rise! 

Your children, wives and grand-sires hoary, — 
Behold their tears and hear their cries, 

Behold their tears and hear their cries! 



GOD SAVE THE KING 


255 


Shall hateful tyrants, mischief breeding, 

With hireling hosts, a ruffian band, 

Affright and desolate the land, 

While peace and liberty lie bleeding? 

To arms, to arms, ye brave! Th’ avenging sword unsheathe! 
March on, march on, all hearts resolved on victory or death! 

O Liberty, can man resign thee, 

Once having felt thy gen’rous flame? 

Can dungeons, bolts and bars confine thee? 

Or whips thy noble spirit tame? 

Or whips thy noble spirit tame? 

Too long the world has wept bewailing 
That Falsehood’s dagger tyrants wield; 

But Freedom is our sword and shield, 

And all their arts are unavailing; 

To arms, to arms, ye brave! Th’ avenging sword unsheathe! 
March on, march on, all hearts resolved on victory or death! 

Study Helps 

Both the words and music of “The Marseillaise” were composed in 
April, 1792, by Rouget de Lisle, a young French army officer then in 
Strassburg. The stirring song was taken up by a battalion from Mar¬ 
seilles, which marched on Paris during the days of the French Revolu¬ 
tion. They sang it during the attack on the Tuilleries, the palace of 
Louis XVI. After France became a republic, “The Marseillaise” was 
adopted as the national song of the country. 


GOD SAVE THE KING 

British National Hymn 

God save our Lord the King, 
Long live our noble King, 
God save the King; 



256 


PATRIOTISM IN SONG 


Send him victorious, 

Happy and glorious, 

Long to reign over us, 

God save the King. 

O Lord our God, arise, 

Scatter his enemies, 

And make them fall; 

Confound their politics, 

Frustrate their knavish tricks, 

On him our hopes are fix’d, 

O save us all. 

Study Helps 

The origin of Great Britain’s national song is a matter of doubt and 
endless discussion. Some claim that it was written in the reign of 
James I by Ben Johnson, then poet laureate of England. The music 
is attributed to Dr. Bull, a famous composer of that reign. Others 
claim that both words and music were the work of Henry Carey, a 
popular writer of lyric verse in the reign of James II. 


ITALIAN NATIONAL HYMN 
All forward, all forward! 

All forward to battle, the trumpets are crying, 

All forward, all forward, our old flag is flying, 
When Liberty calls us we linger no longer; 

Rebels, come on, tho’ a thousand to one. 

Liberty, liberty, deathless and glorious, 

Under thy banner thy sons are victorious, 

Stout hearts and strong hands around it shall rally, 
God shall go with us, the battle be won. 

Hurrah for the banner, hurrah for the banner, 
Hurrah for our banner, the flag of the free. 




ITALIAN NATIONAL HYMN 


2 57 


All forward, all forward! 

All forward for Freedom, in terrible splendor, 

She comes to the loyal who die to defend her; 

Her stars and her stripes, o’er the wild wave of battle, 
Shall float in the heavens to welcome us on. 

All forward to glory, though his blood is pouring, 

Where bright swords are flashing, and cannons are roar¬ 
ing, 

Welcome to death in the bullet’s quick rattle 
Fighting or falling shall freedom be won. 

Hurrah for the banner, hurrah for the banner, 

Hurrah for our banner, the flag of the free. 

All forward, all forward! 

All forward to conquer, where free hearts are beating, 
Death to the coward who dreams of retreating, 

Liberty calls us from mountain and valley; 

Waving her banner, she leads to the fight. 

Forward, all forward, the trumpets are crying; 

The drum beats to arms, our old flag, it is flying; 

Stout hearts and strong hands around it shall rally, 
Forward to battle, for God and the Right. 

Hurrah for the banner, hurrah for the banner, 

Hurrah for our banner, the flag of the free. 


Many days yet to come may be dark as the days that are 
past, 

Many voices may hush while the great years sweep patiently 
by; 

But the voice of our race shall live sounding down to the 
last, 

And our blood is the bard of the song that never shall die. 

— Father Ryan. 








OUR MEMORIAL DAYS 


Soldier, rest! thy warfare o’er, 

Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking; 
Dream of battle-fields no more, 

Days of danger, nights of waking. 

In our isle’s enchanted hall, 

Hands unseen thy couch are strewing; 
Fairy strains of music fall, 

Every sense in slumber dewing 
Soldier, rest! thy warfare o’er, 

Dream of fighting fields no more; 

Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking; 
Morn of toil, nor night of waking. — Scott. 


OUR MEMORIAL DAYS 


Foreword 

‘ ‘ After life’s fitful fever they sleep well’ ’ 

So speaks the immortal Shakespeare in his inimitable way, and 
truly his words might best be applied to the soldier who dies for his 
native land. If any deserve a restful slumber, the man who sacrifices 
all he holds dear in life, and even life itself, that others might live in 
peace and happiness, deserves “to sleep the sleep, that knows not 
breaking.” 

It is natural for every one to speak of death in a minor key, and, in 
the pain of immediate loss, to forget that death is only the beginning 
of another life, that it must come to all soon or late, and that to the 
good among mankind it is only a separation for a little while. 

At the present time as in the past, there are many “ war memorials ” 
being erected in various countries, perpetuating in monuments and 
tablets of brass and stone the heroes who gave their lives that Freedom 
might live. But the greatest memorial that a hero can leave his 
people is the fact that he has been a hero. He leaves to the children 
of his race who shall in turn take up his work the priceless heritage of 
noble sacrifice. 


LEE 


ROBERT E. 




















OUR HONORED DEAD 


Henry Ward Beecher 

The honored dead! They that die for a good cause 
are redeemed from death; their names are gathered 
and garnered, their memory is precious; each place 
grows proud for those who were born there. There is in 
every village, and in every neighborhood, a glowing 
pride in its martyred heroes; tablets preserve their 
names; pious love shall renew the inscriptions as time 
and the unfeeling elements efface them. And the na¬ 
tional festivals shall give multitudes of precious names 
to the orator’s lips. Children shall grow up under more 
sacred inspirations, whose elder brothers, dying nobly for 
their country, left a name that honored and inspired all 
who bore it. 

Oh, tell me not that they are dead, that generous 
host, that army of invisible heroes! Are they dead 
that yet speak louder than we can speak, and a more 
universal language? Are they dead that yet act? Are 
they dead that yet move upon society and inspire the 
people with noble motives and more heroic patriotism? 

Ye that mourn, let gladness mingle with your tears; 
he was your son, but now he is the nation’s; he made 
your household bright, now his example inspires a 
thousand households; dear to his brothers and sisters, 
he is now brother to every generous youth in the land; 
before, he was narrowed, appropriated, shut up to you, 
261 


262 


OUR MEMORIAL DAYS 


now he is augmented, set free, and given to all; before 
he was yours, now he is ours; he has died to the family 
that he might live to the nation. 

Study Helps and Questions 

1. Who are meant by “the honored dead”? 

2. How are those who die for “a good cause” remembered? In 

what ways are the names of “martyred heroes” preserved? 

3. How does the death of such heroes influence the living? 

4. Explain how the death of a hero, though a loss to his own family, 

is a gain to a nation. 

5. State some ways in which our country has perpetuated the 

memory of her dead heroes. 


CONCORD HYMN 
Ralph Waldo Emerson 

By the rude bridge that arched the flood, 

Their flag to April’s breeze unfurled, 

Here once the embattled farmers stood, 

And fired the shot heard ’round the world. 

The foe long since in silence slept; 

Alike the conqueror silent sleeps; 

And Time the ruined bridge has swept 

Down the dark stream which seaward creeps. 

On this green bank, by this soft stream, 

We set to-day a votive stone; 

That memory may their deed redeem, 

When, like our sires, our sons are gone. 

Spirit, that made those heroes dare 
To die, and leave their children free, 

Bid Time and Nature gently spare 
The shaft we raise to them and thee. 



THE ANGELS OF BUENA VISTA 


263 


Study Helps and Questions 

The first fighting of the Revolutionary War occurred between Brit¬ 
ish regulars and American farmers on April 19, 1775, at Lexington and 
Concord in Massachusetts. A detachment of British soldiers had been 
sent out from Boston to destroy American stores collected at Concord. 
The minute men, aroused by Paul Revere on his famous ride, made a 
stand against the British at Concord bridge. The British attack was 
a failure, and they finally retired to Boston with only a remnant of 
their army left. 

In 1836, sixty-one years after the battle of Concord, our country 
erected the famous “Battle Monument” at one end of. Concord bridge. 
Emerson was chosen to write the dedication hymn. In 1875, the statue 
of “The Minute Man” was placed on the opposite bank, with the 
inscription “Faithful Unto Death” and the first stanza of “Concord 
Hymn.” 

1. Tell the story of the battle of Concord and the circumstances 

that led up to it, 

2. Explain what is meant by the expression, “the shot heard 

round the world.” 

3. What is meant by “a votive stone” ? 

4. When, where and why was the “Battle Monument” erected? 

5. How has the memory of “The Minute Man” been honored? 

6. What is inscribed on the statue of “The Minute Man” ? 

7. Why was it fitting that Emerson should be chosen to write the 

hymn at the dedication of the “Battle Monument”? 


THE ANGELS OF BUENA VISTA 

John Greenleaf Whittier 

“ Speak and tell us, our Ximena, looking northward far away, 
O’er the camp of the invaders, o’er the Mexican array, 

Who is losing? who is winning? are they far or come they 
near? 

Look abroad, and tell us, sister, whither rolls the storm we 
hear.” 



264 


OUR MEMORIAL DAYS 


“Down the hills of Angostura still the storm of battle rolls; 

Blood is flowing, men are dying; God have mercy on their 
souls!” 

“ Who is losing? who is winning? ”— “Over hill and over plain, 

I see but smoke of cannon clouding through the mountain 
rain.” 

“Holy Mother! keep our brothers! Look, Ximena, look once 
more:” 

“ Still I see the fearful whirlwind rolling darkly as before, 

Bearing on, in strange confusion, friend and foeman, foot and 
horse, 

Like some wild and troubled torrent sweeping down its moun¬ 
tain course.” 

“Look forth once more, Ximena!” “Ah! the smoke has rolled 
away; 

And I see the Northern rifles gleaming down the ranks of 
gray. 

Hark! That sudden blast of bugles! there the troop of Minon 
wheels; 

There the Northern horses thunder, with the cannon at their 
heels. 

Jesu, pity! how it thickens! now retreat and now advance! 

Right against the blazing cannon shivers Puebla’s charging 
lance! 

Down they go, the brave young riders; horse and foot to¬ 
gether fall; 

Like a plowshare in the fallow, through them plow the Northern 
ball.” 

Nearer came the storm and nearer, rolling fast and frightful 
on; 

“Speak, Ximena, speak and tell us, who has lost, and who 
has won?” 



THE ANGELS OF BUENA VISTA 


265 


“Alas! alas! I know not; friend and foe together fall, 

O’er the dying rush the living: pray, my sisters, for them 
all! 

Lo! the wind the smoke is lifting: Blessed Mother, save my 
brain! 

I can see the wounded crawling slowly out from heaps of 
slain. 

Now they stagger, blind and bleeding; now they fall, and 
strive to rise; 

Hasten, sisters, haste and save them, lest they die before our 
eyes! 

Oh my heart’s love! oh my dear one! lay thy poor head on 
my knee; 

Dost thou know the lips that kiss thee? Canst thou hear me? 
canst thou see? 

Oh, my husband, brave and gentle! oh, my Bernal, look once 
more 

On the blessed cross before thee! mercy! mercy! all is o’er!” 

“Dry thy tears, my poor Ximena; lay thy dear one down to 
rest; 

Let his hands be meekly folded, lay the cross upon his 
breast; 

Let his dirge be sung hereafter, and his funeral masses said; 

Today, thou poor bereaved one, the living ask thy aid.” 

Close beside her, faintly moaning, fair and young, a soldier 
lay, 

Torn with shot and pierced with lances, bleeding slow his life 
away; 

But as tenderly before him, the lorn Ximena knelt, 

She saw the Northern eagle shining on his pistol belt. 


26 6 


OUR MEMORIAL DAYS 


With a stifled cry of horror straight she turned away her head; 

With a sad and bitter feeling looked she back upon her dead; 

But she heard the youth’s low moaning, and his struggling 
breath of pain, 

And she raised the cooling water to his parching lips again. 

Whispered low the dying soldier, pressed her hand and faintly 
smiled: 

Was that pitying face his mother’s? did she watch beside her 
child? 

All his stranger words with meaning her woman’s heart sup¬ 
plied; 

With her kiss upon his forehead, “Mother!” murmured he, 
and died! 

“ A bitter curse upon them, poor boy, who led thee forth, 

From some gentle, sad-eyed mother, weeping, lonely, in the 
North!” 

Spake the mournful Mexic woman, as she laid him with her 
dead, 

And turned to soothe the living, and bind the wounds which 
bled. 

“Look forth once more, Ximena!” “Like a cloud before the 
wind 

Rolls the battle down the mountains, leaving blood and death 
behind. 

Ah! they plead in vain for mercy; in the dust the wounded 
strive; 

Hide your faces, holy angels! oh, thou Christ of God, for¬ 
give!” 

Sink, oh Night, among thy Mountains! let the cool, gray 
shadows fall; 


THE BIVOUAC OF THE DEAD 


267 

Dying brothers, fighting demons, drop thy curtain over all! 
Through the thickening winter twilight, wide apart the battle 
rolled, 

In its sheath the sabre rested, and the cannon's lips grew cold. 

But the noble Mexic women still their holy task pursued, 
Through that long, dark night of sorrow, worn and faint and 
lacking food; 

Over weak and suffering brothers, with a tender care they 
hung, 

And the dying foeman blessed them in a strange and Northern 
tongue. 

Not wholly lost, oh Father! is this evil world of ours; 

Upward, through its blood and ashes, spring afresh the Eden 
flowers; 

From its smoking hell of battle, Love and Pity send their 
prayer, 

And still thy white-winged angels hover dimly in our air! 

Study Helps 

This poem tells a story of mercy after the battle of Buena Vista in 
which the army of the United States defeated that of Mexico. It is 
said that the noble Mexican women went over the battlefield minister¬ 
ing to the needs of friend and foe alike. Their work might be compared 
to that of the Red Cross in the recent World War. 


THE BIVOUAC OF THE DEAD 

Theodore O’Hara 

The muffled drum’s sad roll has beat 
The soldier’s last tattoo; 

No more on life’s parade shall meet 
That brave and fallen few. 



268 


OUR MEMORIAL DAYS 


On Fame’s eternal camping-ground 
Their silent tents are spread, 

And Glory guards, with solemn round, 
The bivouac of the dead. 

No rumor of the foe’s advance 
Now swells upon the wind; 

No troubled thought at midnight haunts 
Of loved ones left behind; 

No vision of the morrow’s strife 
The warrior’s dream alarms; 

No braying horn nor screaming fife 
At dawn shall call to arms. 

Their shivered swords are red with rust, 
Their plumed heads are bowed; 

Their haughty banner, trailed in dust, 
Is now their martial shroud. 

And plenteous funeral tears have washed 
The red stains from each brow, 

And the proud forms, by battle gashed, 
Are free from anguish now. 

The neighing troop, the flashing blade, 
The bugle’s stirring blast, 

The charge, the dreadful cannonade, 

The din and shout, are past; 

Nor war’s wild note, nor glory’s peal 
Shall thrill with fierce delight 

Those breasts that nevermore may feel 
The rapture of the fight. 

Like the fierce northern hurricane 
That sweeps this great plateau, 

Flushed with the triumph yet to gain, 
Came down the serried foe. 


THE BIVOUAC OF THE DEAD 


269 


Who heard the thunder of the fray 
Break o’er the field beneath, 

Knew well the watchword of that day 
Was “ Victory or Death.” 

Long has the doubtful conflict raged 
O’er all that stricken plain, 

For never fiercer fight had waged 
The vengeful blood of Spain; 

And still the storm of battle blew, 

Still swelled the gory tide; 

Not long, our stout old chieftain knew, 
Such odds his strength could bide. 

’Twas in that hour his stern command 
Called to a martyr’s grave 
The flower of his beloved band 
The nation’s flag to save. 

By rivers of their fathers’ gore 
His first- born laurels grew, 

And well he deemed the sons would pour 
Their lives for glory too. 

Full many a norther’s breath has swept 
O’er Angostura’s plain, 

And long the pitying sky has wept 
Above its mouldered slain. 

The raven’s scream, or eagle’s flight, 

Or shepherd’s pensive lay, 

Alone awakes each sullen height 
That frowned o’er that dread fray. 

Sons of the Dark and Bloody Ground, 
Ye must not slumber there, 

Where stranger steps and tongues resound 
Along the heedless air. 


270 


OUR MEMORIAL DAYS 


Your own proud land’s heroic soil 
Shall be your fitter grave; 

She claims from War his richest spoil — 

The ashes of her brave. 

Study Helps and Questions 

The poem was written to commemorate the removal to Kentucky 
of the ashes of her sons who had fallen in the battle of Buena Vista in 
the Mexican War. 

Theodore O’Hara, the author of the poem, was a native of Kentucky, 
and had fought in the Mexican War, so it was fitting that he should 
write the eulogy of his dead comrades. 

Stanzas of this famous poem have been placed by order of the 
government in Arlington Cemetery and in other national cemeteries 
throughout the country. It has also been engraven on a monument 
erected on a battlefield in the distant Crimea. 

j. What is meant by the “bivouac” of an army? Explain the 
title of this poem. 

2. What do you understand by the reference to “the muffled drum” 

in the first stanza? What is meant by “Fame’s eternal camp¬ 
ing ground”? Who acts as guard for the dead heroes? What 
was their martial shroud? 

3. Of what experiences do the second and the fourth stanzas 

speak? 

4. How did the enemy sweep down upon them? Why was the 

watchword “Victory or Death”? 

5. General Zachary Taylor was the “stout old chieftain” to whom 

reference is made. On whom did he call to save the nation’s 
flag? What was the outcome of the struggle? 

6. The Indians called Kentucky “the Dark and Bloody Ground.” 

Why were the ashes of the Kentucky soldiers removed to 
their native state? 

7. Why are stanzas from this poem used in national cemeteries? 


A LAND WITHOUT RUINS 


271 


A LAND WITHOUT RUINS 
Abram J. Ryan 

“A land without ruins is a land without memories — a land with¬ 
out memories is a land without history. A land that wears a laurel 
crown may be fair to see; but twine a few sad cypress leaves around 
the brow of any land, and be that land barren, beautiless and bleak, it 
becomes lovely in its consecrated coronet of sorrow, and it wins the 
sympathy of the heart and of history. Crowns of roses fade — crowns 
of thorns endure. Calvaries and crucifixions take deepest hold of 
humanity — the triumphs of might are transient, they pass and are 
forgotten — the sufferings of right are graven deepest on the chronicle 
of nations.” 


Yes, give me the land where the ruins are spread, 

And the living tread lightly on the hearts of the dead; 
Yes, give me a land that is blest by the dust, 

And bright with the deeds of the down-trodden just. 
Yes, give me the land where the battle’s red blast 
Has flashed to the future the fame of the past; 

Yes, give me the land that hath legends and lays 
That tell of the memories of long vanished days; 

Yes, give me a land that hath story and song! 
Enshrine the strife of the right with the wrong! 

Yes, give me a land with a grave in each spot, 

And names in the graves that shall not be forgot; 

Yes, give me the land of the wreck and tomb; 

There is grandeur in graves — there is glory in gloom; 
For out of the gloom future brightness is born, 

As after the night comes the sunrise of morn; 

And the graves of the dead with the grass overgrown 
May yet form the footstool of liberty’s throne, 

And each single wreck in the war-path of might, 

Shall yet be a rock in the temple of right. 


272 


OUR MEMORIAL DAYS 


THE CONQUERED BANNER 

Abram J. Ryan 

Furl that banner, for ’tis weary; 

Round its staff, ’tis drooping dreary; 

Furl it, fold it, it is best; 

For there’s not a man to wave it, 

And there’s not a sword to save it, 

And there’s not one left to lave it 
In the blood which heroes gave it; 

And its foes now scorn and brave it; 
Furl it, hide it, let it rest! 

Take that Banner down! ’tis tattered; 
Broken is its staff and shattered; 

And the valiant hosts are scattered 
Over whom it floated high. 

Oh! ’tis hard for us to fold it; 

Hard to think there’s none to hold it; 
Hard that those who once unrolled it 
Now must furl it with a sigh. 

Furl that Banner! furl it sadly! 

Once ten thousand hailed it gladly, 

And ten thousand wildly, madly, 

Swore it should forever wave; 

Swore that foeman’s sword should never 
Hearts like theirs entwined dissever, 

Till that flag should float forever 

O’er their freedom or their grave. 

Furl it! for-the hands that grasped it, 
And the hearts that fondly clasped it, 
Cold and dead are lying low; 


THE CONQUERED BANNER 


2 73 


And that Banner — it is trailing! 
While around it sounds the wailing 
Of its people in their woe. 


For, though conquered, they adore it! 
Love the cold, dead hands that bore it! 
Weep for those who fell before it! 
Pardon those who trailed and tore it! 
But, oh! wildly they deplore it, 

Now who furl and fold it so. 


Furl that Banner! True, ’tis gory, 

Yet ’tis wreathed around with glory 
And ’twill live in song and story, 

Though its folds are in the dust; 
For its fame on brightest pages, 

Penned by poets and by sages, 

Shall go sounding dow;i the ages, — 
Furl its folds though now we must. 


Furl that Banner, softly, slowly; 
Treat it gently — it is holy — 

For it droops above the dead. 
Touch it not — unfold it never, 

Let it droop there, furled forever, 
For its people’s hopes are fled! 


Study Helps 

“The Conquered Banner” was written by Father Ryan, a chaplain 
in the Confederate Army. He loved the South with an intense love, 
and is often called “the poet-laureate of the Confederacy.” This is 
perhaps his best known poem. 


274 


OUR MEMORIAL DAYS 


SWORD OF ROBERT E. LEE 
Abram J. Ryan 

Forth from its scabbard, pure and bright, 
Flashed the sword of Lee! 

Far in the front of deadly fight, 

High o’er the brave in the cause of Right, 
Its stainless sheen, like a beacon light, 

Led us to Victory. 

Out of its scabbard, where, full long, 

It slumbered peacefully, 

Roused from its rest by the battle’s song, 
Shielding the feeble, smiting the strong, 
Guarding the right, avenging the wrong, 
Gleamed the sword of Lee. 

Forth from its scabbard, high in air, 

Beneath Virginians sky — 

And they who saw it gleaming there, 

And knew who bore it, knelt to swear 
That where that sword led they would dare 
To follow — and to die. 

Out of its scabbard! Never hand 
Waved sword from stain as free, 

Nor purer sword led braver band, 

Nor braver bled for a brighter land, 

Nor brighter land had a cause so grand, 

Nor cause a chief like Lee! 

Forth from its scabbard! How we prayed 
That sword might victor be; 

And when our triumph was delayed, 

And many a heart grew sore afraid, 



LITTLE GIFFEN 


275 


. We still hoped on while gleamed the blade 
Of noble Robert Lee. 

Forth from its scabbard all in vain, 

Bright flashed the sword of Lee; 

J Tis shrouded now in its sheath again, 

It sleeps the sleep of our noble slain, 

Defeated, yet without a stain, 

Proudlv and peacefully. 

Study Helps 

Robert Edward Lee, the commander-in-chief of the Confederate 
forces, is reckoned among the world’s greatest military leaders. Greater 
even than his ability as a soldier was the influence of his stainless charac¬ 
ter. This poem, written by “the poet-laureate of the Confederacy,” 
shows the love and honor in which Lee was held by the South, and 
also the faith in his leadership. 


LITTLE GIFFEN 

Frank O. Ticknor 

Out of the focal and foremost fire, 

Out of the hospital walls as dire; 

Smitten of grapeshot and gangrene, — 
Eighteenth battle, and he sixteen! — 

Specter, such as you seldom see, 

Little Giffen, of Tennessee! 

“Take him and welcome!” the surgeons said; 
“Little the doctor can help the dead!” 

So we took him; and brought him where 
The balm was sweet in the summer air; 

And we laid him down on a wholesome bed — 
Utter Lazarus, heel to head! 




276 


OUR MEMORIAL DAYS 


And we watched the war with bated breath, — 

Skeleton boy against skeleton death. 

Months of torture, how many such? 

Weary weeks of the stick and crutch; 

And still a glint of the steel-blue eye 
Told of a spirit that wouldn’t die, 

And didn’t. Nay, more! in death’s despite 
The crippled skeleton learned to write. 

“Dear Mother,” at first, of course; and then 
“Dear Captain,” inquiring about the men. 

Captain’s answer: “Of eighty and five, 

Giffen and I are left alive.” 

Word of gloom from the war, one day; 

Johnson pressed at the front, they say. 

Little Giffen was up and away; 

A tear — his first — as he bade good-by, 

Dimmed the glint of his steel-blue eye. 

“I’ll write, if spared!” There was news of the fight, 

But none of Giffen. — He did not write. 

I sometimes fancy that, were I king 
Of the princely Knights of the Golden Ring, 

With the song of the minstrel in mine ear, 

And the tender legend that trembles here, 

I’d give the best on his bended knee, 

The whitest soul of my chivalry, 

For little Giffen of Tennessee. 

Study Helps and Questions 

1. Why did the surgeons think that there was little hope for this 

wounded soldier? Explain the Biblical allusion to Lazarus. 

2. What helped Little Giffen win his fight against death? 

3. Johnson was a Confederate general. What did Little Giffen 

do when he heard that Johnson was “p resse d at the front”? 


GETTYSBURG SPEECH 


2 77 

4. What happened to Little Giffen? 

5. What reference is made to the Knights of the Round Table? 

6. What claims did Little Giffen have to knighthood? 

7. Tell the story of Little Giffen in your own words. 


GETTYSBURG SPEECH 
Abraham Lincoln 

Fourscore and seven years ago, our fathers brought 
forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, 
and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created 
equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war, test¬ 
ing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and 
so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great 
battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a 
portion of that field as a final resting-place for those 
who here gave their lives that that nation might live. 
It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do 
this. But in a larger sense we cannot dedicate, we 
cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. The 
brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have 
consecrated it far above our poor power to add or de¬ 
tract. The world will little note, nor long remember, 
what we say here, but it can never forget what they 
did here. It is for us, the living, rather to be dedicated 
here to the unfinished work which they who fought here 
have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to 
be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us, 
— that from these honored dead we take increased 
devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full 
measure of devotion, — that we here highly resolve that 



OUR MEMORIAL DAYS 


278 

these dead shall not have died in vain, — that this 
nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom, 
— and that government of the people, by the people, 
for the people, shall not perish from the earth. 

Study Helps 

The battle of Gettysburg, which was fought in July, 1863, was the 
turning point of the Civil War. In November of the same year, the 
Gettysburg national cemetery was dedicated. Edward Everett was 
the orator of the day. For two hours this brilliant speaker thrilled the 
audience, but his speech is little known now, while the few words uttered 
by Lincoln seemed to have been spoken for all time. Lincoln himself 
thought that his speech was a failure, yet it is doubtful if any other 
speaker has ever been able to express as much in so few words. 


DECORATION DAY ADDRESS 
James A. Garfield 

I am oppressed with a sense of the impropriety of 
uttering words on this occasion. If silence is ever 
golden, it must be here beside the graves of fifteen thou¬ 
sand men, whose lives were more significant than speech, 
and whose death was a poem, the music of which can 
never be sung. With words we make promises, plight 
faith, praise virtue. Promises may not be kept; plighted 
faith may be broken; and vaunted virtue be only the 
cunning mask of vice. We do not know one promise 
these men made, one pledge they gave, one word they 
spoke; but we do know they summed up and perfected, 
by one supreme act, the highest virtues of men and 
citizens. For love of country they accepted death, and 
thus resolved all doubts, and made immortal their pa- 



THE BLUE AND THE GRAY 


279 


triotism and their virtue. For the noblest man that 
lives, there still remains a conflict. He must still with¬ 
stand the assaults of time and fortune, must still be 
assailed with temptations, before which lofty natures 
have fallen; but with these the conflict ended, the vic¬ 
tory was won, when death stamped on them the great 
seal of heroic character, and closed a record which 
years can never blot. 

Study Helps 

This is an extract from an address delivered at Arlington, May 30, 
1868. Arlington formerly belonged to the Custis family, and at the close 
of the Civil War it was in possession of Mrs. R. E. Lee, a granddaughter 
of Mrs. Washington. The government acquired the property, and, it 
is now used as a national cemetery. It is situated on the Potomac 
River opposite Washington. 


THE BLUE AND THE GRAY 
Francis M. Finch 

By the flow of the inland river, 

Whence the fleets of iron have fled, 
Where the blades of the grave-grass quiver 
Asleep are the ranks of the dead; 

Under the sod and the dew, 

Waiting the judgment day; 

Under the one, the Blue; 

Under the other, the Gray. 

These, in the robings of glory, 

Those, in the gloom of defeat, 

All, with the battle blood gory, 

In the dusk of eternity meet; 



28 o 


OUR MEMORIAL DAYS 


Under the sod and the dew, 

Waiting the judgment day; 

Under the laurel, the Blue; 

Under the willow, the Gray. 

From the silence of sorrowful hours 
The desolate mourners go, 

Lovingly laden with flowers 
Alike for the friend and the foe; 

Under the sod and the dew, 

Waiting the judgment day; 

Under the roses, the Blue; 

Under the lilies, the Gray. 

So with an equal splendor 
The morning sun rays fall, 

With a touch impartially tender, 

On the blossoms blooming for all; 

Under the sod and the dew, 

Waiting the judgment day; 

’Broidered with gold, the Blue; 
Mellowed with gold, the Gray. 

So when the summer calleth 
On forest and field of grain, 

With an equal murmur falleth 
The cooling drip of the rain; 

Under the sod and the dew, 

Waiting the judgment day; 

Wet with rain, the Blue; 

Wet with rain, the Gray. 

Sadly, but not with upbraiding, 

The generous deed was done; 

In the storm of the years that are fading 
No braver battle was won; 


THE BLUE AND THE GRAY 


281 


Under the sod and the dew, 

Waiting the judgment day; 

Under the blossoms, the Blue; 

Under the garlands, the Gray. 

No more shall the war-ery sever, 

Or the winding rivers be red; 

They banish our anger forever, 

When they laurel the graves of our dead 
Under the sod and the dew, 

Waiting the judgment day; 

Love and tears for the Blue; 

Tears and love for the Gray. 

Study Helps and Questions 

On Memorial Day, 1867, the women of Columbus, Mississippi, 
strewed flowers on the graves of both Federal and Confederate soldiers, 
on “ friend and foe” alike. This fact is said to have inspired Judge 
Finch of New York to write “The Blue and the Gray.” 

1. What soldiers wore “the Blue”? Who wore “ the Gray ”? 

2. Who wore “the robings of glory”? Who went down in “the 

gloom of defeat”? 

3. What is signified by the laurel? What is meant by the willow? 

4. Who were “the desolate mourners”? How did they treat 

“friend and foe” alike? 

5. The sun shines and the rain falls alike on the graves of the 

Blue and the Gray. What thought does this suggest to you? 

6. To what generous deed does the poet refer when he says “no 

braver battle'was won”? Why does he make this statement? 

7. What was the effect of this generous act? 


282 


OUR MEMORIAL DAYS 


MEMORIAL DAY, 1917 
Woodrow Wilson 

Any Memorial Day of this sort is, of course, a day 
touched with sorrowful memory, and yet I for one do 
not see how we can have any thought of pity for the 
men whose memory we honor today. I do not pity 
them. I envy them, rather, because theirs is a great 
work for liberty accomplished, and we are in the midst 
of a work unfinished, testing our strength where their 
strength already has been tested. There is a touch of 
sorrow, but there is a touch of reassurance also in a day 
like this, because we know how the men of America 
have responded to the call of the cause of liberty, and 
it fills our minds with a perfect assurance that that re¬ 
sponse will come again in equal measure, with equal 
majesty, and with a result which will hold the attention 
of all mankind. 

When you reflect upon it, these men who died to 
preserve the Union died to preserve the instrument 
which we are now using to serve the world — a free 
nation espousing the cause of human liberty. In one 
sense the great struggle, because it is in defense of 
American honor and American rights; but it is some¬ 
thing even greater than that: it is a world struggle. 
It is a struggle of men who love liberty everywhere, 
and in this cause America will show herself greater than 
ever because she will rise to a greater thing. We have 
said in the beginning that we planned this great Govern¬ 
ment that men who wish freedom might have a place of 
refuge and a place where their hope could be realized, 
and now, having established such a government, having 


THE SOLDIER OF 1914 283 

preserved such a government, having vindicated the 
power of such a government, we are saying to all man¬ 
kind, “We did not set this Government up in order 
that we might have a selfish and separate liberty, for 
we are now ready to come to your assistance and fight 
out upon the fields of the world the cause of human 
liberty.” In this thing America attains her full dignity 
and the full fruition of her great purpose. 

Study Helps 

This address was made at Arlington, Va., May 30, 1917, by Pres¬ 
ident Woodrow Wilson. Among those assembled to hear him were 
veterans of the Federal and Confederate armies and many soldiers in 
khaki who were soon to cross the sea and fight for the liberties of the 
world abroad. The time, place, and circumstances made this address 
particularly impressive. 


THE SOLDIER OF 1914 
Rene Doumic 

Alas! the beauty of the struggle does not hide from 
me its sadness. How many went away, full of youth 
and hope, to return no more. How many have fallen 
already without seeing realized what they so ardently 
desired; sowers they, who to make the land fertile have 
watered it with their blood, yet will not see the harvest. 

But at least their sacrifice will not have been in vain. 
They have brought unity to their divided country, they 
have made her become conscious of herself again; they 
have made her learn enthusiasm once again. They have 
not seen victory, but they have merited it. Honor 
to them, struck down first, and glory to those who will 
avenge them! We enfold them both in our devotion 
to the same sacred cause. 



284 


OUR MEMORIAL DAYS 


Would that a new era might dawn, thanks to them, 
that a new world might be born in which we might 
breathe more freely, where injustices centuries old 
might be made good, where France, arising from long 
humiliation, might resume her rank and destiny! Then, 
in that France, healed and revived, what an awakening, 
what a renewal, what a sap, what a magnificent flower¬ 
ing there would be! This will be thy work, soldier of 
1914! To you we shall owe this resurrection of our be¬ 
loved country. And later on, and always, in everything 
beautiful and good that may be done among u*s, in the 
thousand forms of national activity, in the strength of 
our young men and the grace of our young women, 
in all that will be the France of tomorrow, there will be, 
soldier so brave and so simple in your greatness, a little 
of your heroic soul! 


COLUMBIA’S REPLY TO FRANCE 
Reab 

[Private Enright, Private Gresham, and Private Hay were the 
first American soldiers to fall in France in the great World War. 
Their graves were marked: “Here lie the first soldiers of The 
Republic of the United States to fall on the soil of France for 
liberty and justice.”] 

There let them sleep! My first, my fallen sons! 

Inter them not where serf and vassal lie; 

But where their valor met the thundering guns, 

Far from the sceptered land of savage Huns — 

There be their dirges sung. 

Oh! France, free France, child of a Bastille’s throes; 
’Twas honor on thy battlefield to die! 



IN FLANDERS FIELDS 


285 


Commit their ashes to that hallowed close; 

But blend not with thy requiem of repose 
One note of servile tongue! 

Each drop of blood that crystaled on thy sod; 

Each dying groan that rent the putrid air; 

Each “good-bye” whispered to the trampled clod; 
Shall burst florescent at the feet of God — 
Freedom’s victorious sacrifice. 

It shall not be in vain their blood was shed; 

The flag of Liberty they planted there 
Shall not be furled till every despot-head 
Shall bend in homage! And to feudal stead 
The slave and vassal rise! 

Farewell, ye heroes — Enright, Gresham, Hay; 

On far Elysian fields you’ve pitched your tents; 
No more the bugle blast, no more the fray, 

The weary march, the battle’s fierce array — 

No more the foe’s advance. 

In that fair realm, beyond the stench of wars, 
Where is no dirge, no clash of armaments, 

Be yours the peace that conflict never mars. 

I, on my heart, engrave your hallowed scars, 

And yield your dust to France! 


IN FLANDERS FIELDS 
John McCrae 

In Flanders fields, the poppies blow 
Between the crosses, row on row, 
That mark our places. In the sky 
The larks, still bravely singing, fly, 
Scarce heard amid the guns below. 



286 


OUR MEMORIAL DAYS 


We are the dead. Short days ago 
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, 
Loved and were loved, and now we lie 
In Flanders fields. 

Take up our quarrel with the foe! 

To you, from failing hands, we throw 
The torch. Be yours to lift it high! 

If ye break faith with us who die, 

We shall not sleep, though poppies blow 
In Flanders fields. 


IN FLANDERS FIELDS 

An Answer 
C. B. Galbraith 

In Flanders fields, the cannon boom 
And fitful flashes fight the gloom, 

While up above, like eagles, fly 
The fierce destroyers of the sky; 

With stains the earth wherein you fie 
Is redder than the poppy bloom, 

In Flanders fields. 

Sleep on, ye brave. The shrieking shell, 
The quaking trench, the startled yell, 
The fury of the battle hell 
Shall wake you not, for all is well. 

Sleep peacefully, for all is well. 

Your flaming torch aloft we bear, 

With burning heart an oath we swear 
To keep the faith, to fight it through, 

To crush the foe or sleep with you 
In Flanders fields. 



PROPHETIC VISIONS 

And one hath had the vision face to face. — Tennyson. 


PROPHETIC VISIONS 


/ 


Foreword 

The progressive man of any age is “the man of vision.” Such a 
man spends his life in a zealous unselfish devotion to a high ideal, 
laboring with all the force of his being to bring about a happier con¬ 
dition to his race, a greater prosperity to his land than that which he 
enjoys. He thinks not of himself, not even of the present, except as 
it can be made to serve the interests of the future. In any age or 
among any people the “man of vision” is always a prophet, not often 
respected and but rarely understood. He sees beyond the years and 
must look to the future for his vindication. 

In the Indian epic we find the noble Hiawatha speaking with words 
of unselfish faith in a better era, when he foretells that the Indian’s 
hunting grounds shall give place to cultivated fields and busy popu¬ 
lous cities, and that his own people shall be supplanted by a better, 
stronger race. 

The Pilgrim and other pioneers endured the hardships of the early 
settlers because they had a “vision” of a great land and a great people. 

In the “Vision of Sir Launfal,” Mr. Lowell, speaking with a heart 
full of pity for the unfortunate condition of slavery then existing, 
pictures in a beautiful story man’s happiness in the service of his 
fellowman. 

In our own day, the “man of vision” sees a future when nations 
shall “beat their swords into ploughshares,” and the peace of Christ 
shall reign. 






SIR GALAHAD 
After the painting by G. F. Watts 





























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HIAWATHA’S VISION 


Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 
The White Man’s Foot 

From his wanderings far to eastward, 
From the regions of the morning, 

From the shining land of Wabun, 
Homeward now returned Iagoo, 

The great traveller, the great boaster, 
Full of new and strange adventures, 
Marvels many and many wonders. 

And the people of the village 
Listened to him as he told them 
Of his marvellous adventures, 

Laughing answered him in this wise: 
“Ugh! it is indeed Iagoo! 

No one else beholds such wonders!” 

He had seen, he said, a water 
Bigger than the Big-Sea-Water, 

Broader than the Gitche Gurnee, 

Bitter so that none could drink it! 

At each other looked the warriors, 
Looked the women at each other, 
Smiled, and said, “It cannot be so! 
Kaw!” they said, “it cannot be so!” 

O’er it, said he, o’er this water 
Came a great canoe with pinions, 

A canoe with wings came flying, 

Bigger than a grove of pine-trees, 

Taller than the tallest tree-tops! 

289 


PROPHETIC VISIONS 


And the old men and the women 
Looked and tittered at each other; 

“Kaw!” they said, “we don’t believe it!” 

From its mouth, he said, to greet him, 
Came Waywassimo, the lightning, 

Came the thunder, Annemeekee! 

And the warriors and the women 
Laughed aloud at poor Iagoo; 

“Kaw!” they said, “what tales you tell us!” 

In it, said he, came a people, 

In the great canoe with pinions 
Came, he said, a hundred warriors; 

Painted white were all their faces, 

And with hair their chins were covered! 

And the warriors and the women 
Laughed and shouted in derision, 

Like the ravens on the tree-tops, 

Like the crows upon the hemlocks. 

“Kaw!” they said, “what lies you tell us! 

Do not think that we believe them!” 

Only Hiawatha laughed not, 

But he gravely spake and answered 
To their jeering and their jesting: 

“True is all Iagoo tells us; 

I have seen it in a vision, 

Seen the great canoe with pinions, 

Seen the people with white faces, 

Seen the coming of this bearded 
People of the wooden vessel 
From the regions of the morning, 

From the shining land of Wabun. 

“ Gitche Manito the Mighty, 

The Great Spirit, the Creator, 

Sends them hither on his errand, 

Sends them to us with his message. 


HIAWATHA’S VISION 


291 


Wheresoe’er they move, before them 
Swarms the stinging fly, the Ahmo, 
Swarms the bee, the honey-maker; 
Wheresoe’er they tread, beneath them 
Springs a flower unknown among us, 
Springs the White-man’s Foot in blossom. 

“Let us welcome, then, the strangers, 
Hail them as our friends and brothers, 
And the heart’s right hand of friendship 
Give them when they come to see us. 
Gitche Manito, the Mighty, 

Said this to me in my vision. 

“I beheld, too, in that vision 
All the secrets of the future, 

Of the distant days that shall be. 

I beheld the westward marches 
Of the unknown, crowded nations. 

All the land was full of people, 

Restless, struggling, toiling, striving, 
Speaking many tongues, yet feeling 
But one heart-beat in their bosoms. 

In the woodlands rang their axes, 

Smoked their towns in all the valleys, 
Over all the lakes and rivers 
Rushed their great canoes of thunder. 

“Then a darker, drearier vision 
Passed before me, vague and cloud-like: 

I beheld our nation scattered, 

All forgetful of my counsels, 

Weakened, warring with each other; 

Saw the remnants of our people 
Sweeping westward, wild and woful, 

Like the cloud-rack of a tempest, 

Like the withered leaves of Autumn!” 


292 


PROPHETIC VISIONS 


By the shore of Gitche Gurnee, 

By the shining Big-Sea-Water, 

At the doorway of his wigwam, 

In the pleasant summer morning, 
Hiawatha stood and waited. 

All the air was full of freshness, 

All the earth was bright and joyous, 
And before him, through the sunshine, 
Westward toward the neighboring forest 
Passed in golden swarms the Ahmo, 
Passed the bees, the honey-makers, 
Burning, singing in the sunshine. 

Bright above him shone the heavens, 
Level spread the. lake before him; 

From its bosom leaped the sturgeon, 
Sparkling, flashing in the sunshine; 

On its margin the great forest 
Stood reflected in the water, 

Every tree-top had its shadow, 
Motionless beneath the water. 

From the brow of Hiawatha 
Gone was every trace of sorrow, 

As the fog from off the water, 

As the mist from off the meadow. 

With a smile of joy and triumph, 

With a look of exultation, 

As of one who in a vision 
Sees what is to be, but is not, 

Stood and waited Hiawatha. 

Toward the sun his hands were lifted, 
Both the palms spread out against it, 
And between the parted fingers 
Fell the sunshine on his features, 

Flecked with light his naked shoulders, 


HIAWATHA’S VISION 


293 


As it falls and flecks an oak-tree 
Through the rifted leaves and branches. 

O’er the water floating, flying, 
Something in the hazy distance, 
Something in the mists of morning, 
Loomed and lifted from the water, 

Now seemed floating, now seemed flying, 
Coming nearer, nearer, nearer. 

Was it Shingebis the diver? 

Or the pelican, the Shada? 

Or the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah? 

Or the white goose, Waw-be-wawa, 

With the water dripping, flashing 
From its glossy neck and feathers? 

It was neither goose nor diver, 

Neither pelican nor heron, 

O’er the water floating, flying, 

Through the shining mist of morning, 
But a birch canoe with paddles, 

Rising, sinking on the water, 

Dripping, flashing in the sunshine; 

And within it came a people 
From the distant land of Wabun, 

From the farthest realms of morning 
Came the Black-Robe chief, the Prophet, 
He the Priest of Prayer, the Pale-face, 
With his guides and his companions. 

And the noble Hiawatha, 

With his hands aloft extended, 

Held aloft in sign of welcome, 

Waited, full of exultation, 

Till the birch canoe with paddles 
Grated on the shining pebbles, 

Stranded on the sandy margin, 


294 


PROPHETIC VISIONS 


Till the Black-Robe chief, the Pale-face, 
With the cross upon his bosom, 

Landed on the sandy margin. 

Then the joyous Hiawatha 
Cried aloud and spake in this wise: 
“Beautiful is the sun, O strangers, 

When you come so far to see us! 

All our town in peace awaits you; 

All our doors stand open for you; 

You shall enter all our wigwams, 

For the heart’s right hand we give you. 

“Never bloomed the earth so gayly, 
Never shone the sun so brightly, 

As to-day they shine and blossom 
When you come so far to see us! 

Never was our lake so tranquil, 

Nor so free from rocks and sand-bars; 

For your birch canoe in passing 
Has removed both rock and sand-bar. 

“Never before had our tobacco 
Such a sweet and pleasant flavor, 

Never the broad leaves of our corn-fields 
Were so beautiful to look on, 

As they seem to us this morning, 

When you come so far to see us!” 

And the Black-Robe chief made answer, 
Stammered in his speech a little, 

Speaking words yet unfamiliar: 

“Peace be with you, Hiawatha, 

Peace be with you and your people, 

Peace of prayer, and peace of pardon, 
Peace of Christ, and joy of Mary!” 

Then the generous Hiawatha 
Led the strangers to his wigwam, 


HIAWATHA’S VISION 


295 


Seated them on skins of bison, 

Seated them on skins of ermine, 

And the careful old Nokomis 

Brought them food in bowls of bass-wood, 

Water brought in birchen dippers, 

And the calumet, the peace-pipe, 

Filled and lighted for their smoking. 

All the old men of the village, 

All the warriors of the nation, 

All the Jossakeeds, the prophets, 

The magicians, the Wabenos, 

And the medicine-men, the Medas, 

Came to bid the strangers welcome; 

“It is well,” they said, “O brothers, 

That you come so far to see us!” 

In a circle round the doorway, 

With their pipes they sat in silence, 
Waiting to behold the strangers, 

Waiting to receive their message; 

Till the Black-Robe chief, the Pale-face, 
From the wigwam came to greet them, 
Stammering in his speech a little, 

Speaking words yet unfamiliar; 

“It is well,” they said, “O brother, 

That you come so far to see us!” 

Then the Black-Robe chief, the prophet, 
Told his message to the people, 

Told the purport of his mission, 

And the chiefs made answer, saying: 
“We have listened to your message, 

We have heard your words of wisdom, 

We will think on what you tell us. 

It is well for us, O brothers, 

That you came so far to see us!” 


296 


PROPHETIC VISIONS 


Then they rose up and departed 
Each one homeward to his wigwam, 

To the young men and the women 
Told the story of the strangers 
Whom the Master of Life had sent them 
From the shining land of Wabun. 

Study Helps and Questions 

The scene of this poem is around the southern end of Lake Superior. 
The coming of the Pale-face strangers is based on the voyages of the 
French missionaries and traders. It is said that Father Marquette, 
when he entered the country of the Illinois, was received in much the 
same way as Hiawatha is represented as receiving the- “Black-Robe 
Chief ” and the strangers who came from the “ realms of morning.” 

1. Who was Iagoo? 

2. What strange tales did he tell of his wanderings far to the east¬ 

ward? 

3. What do you suppose he meant by the water he had seen, 

“broader than the Gitche Gurnee, bitter so that none could 
drink it”? 

4. What did he mean by “the great canoe with pinions”? 

5. How did he describe the white people he had seen? 

6. How did the people of his tribe receive the tales he told them? 

Why did they treat him with scorn? 

7. How did Hiawatha receive the story? 

8. What had Hiawatha seen in his vision? 

9. Tell what he foresaw would happen to the land when the white 

man settled it. 

10. What did he foresee would happen to the Indian tribes who 

weakened themselves by warring against each other? 

11. Tell how the “Black-Robe Chief” came, and how Hiawatha re¬ 

ceived him. 

12. • How did the chief men of the village receive the strangers? 

13. What message did the “Black-Robe Chief” bring to the Indian 

people? 

14. How did the Indians receive this message? 

15. Tell in your own words what this story means. 


THE PILGRIM’S VISION 


297 


THE PILGRIM’S VISION 
Oliver Wendell Holmes 

In the hour of twilight shadows the Puritan looked out; 

He thought of the “bloody savages” that lurked all round 
about, 

Of Wituwamet’s pictured knife and Pecksnot’s whooping 
shout — 

For the baby’s limbs were feeble, though the father’s arms 
were stout. 

His home was a freezing cabin, too bare for the hungry rat, 
Its roof was thatched with ragged grass, and bald enough of 
that, 

The hole that served for casement was glazed with an an¬ 
cient hat, 

And the ice was gently thawing from the log whereon he sat. 

Along the dreary landscape his eye went to and fro, 

The trees all clad in icicles, the streams that did not flow; 

A sudden thought flashed o’er him — a dream of long ago — 
He smote his leathern jerkin and murmured, “Even so! 

“Come hither, God-be-glorified, and sit upon my knee; 
Behold the dream unfolding whereof I spake to thee 
By the winter’s hearth in Leyden and on the stormy sea; 

True is the dream’s beginning — so may its ending be! 

“I saw in the naked forest our scattered remnant cast, 

A screen of shivering branches between them and the blast; 
The snow was falling round them, the dying fell as fast, 

I looked to see them perish, when lo! the vision passed. 

“Again mine eyes were opened: The feeble had waxed strong; 
The babies had grown to sturdy men, the remnant was a 
throng; 


298 prophetic visions 

By shadowed lake and winding stream and all the shores 
along, 

The howling demons quaked to hear the Christian’s godly 
song. 

“They slept — the village fathers — by river, lake and shore, 

When, far adown the steep of time, the vision rose once more. 

I saw along the winter snow a spectral column pour, 

And high above their broken ranks a tattered flag they bore. 

“Their leader rode before them, of bearing calm and high, 

The light of heaven’s own kindling throned in his awful eye. 

These were a nation’s champions her dread appeal to try: 

‘God for the right!’ I faltered, and lo! the train passed by. 

“Once more the strife is ended, the solemn issue tried, 

The Lord of hosts, His mighty arm has helped our Israel’s 
side. 

Gray stone and grassy hillock tell where our martyrs died, 

But peaceful smiles the harvest and stainless flows the tide. 

“A crash as when some swollen cloud cracks o’er the tangled 
trees, 

With side to side, and spar to spar, whose smoking decks are 
these? 

I know St. George’s blood-red cross, thou mistress of the 
seas, 

But what is she whose streaming bars roll out before the 
breeze? 

“Ah! well her iron ribs are knit, whose thunders strive to 
quell 

The bellowing throats, the blazing lips, that pealed the Ar¬ 
mada’s knell! 


THE PILGRIM’S VISION 


299 

The mist was cleared, a wreath of stars rose o’er the crim¬ 
soned swell, 

And wavering from its haughty peak the cross of England 
fell. 

“O trembling faith, though dark the morn, a heavenly torch 
is thine; 

While feebler races melt away, and paler orbs decline, 

Still shall the fiery pillar’s ray along the pathway shine, 

To light the chosen tribe that sought this western Palestine. 

“I see the living tide roll on, it crowns with flaming towers 
The icy capes of Labrador, the Spaniard’s land of flowers, 

It streams beyond the splintered ridge that parts the northern 
showers, 

From eastern rock to sunset wave the continent is ours.” 

He ceased — the grim old Puritan — then softly bent to cheer 
The pilgrim child, whose wasting face was meekly turned to 
hear; 

And drew his toil-worn sleeve across to brush the manly 
tear 

From cheeks that never changed in woe, and never blanched 
in fear. 

The weary Pilgrim slumbers, his resting-place unknown; 

His hands were crossed, his lids were closed, the dust was o’er 
him strown; 

The drifting soil, the mouldering leaf, along the sod were 
blown; 

His mould has melted into earth, his memory lives alone. 

So let it live unfading, the memory of the dead, 

Long as the pale anemone springs where their tears were shed, 
Or, raining in the summer’s wind in flakes of burning red, 

The wild rose sprinkles with its leaves the turf where once 
they bled. 


300 


PROPHETIC VISIONS 


Yea, when the frowning bulwarks that guard this holy strand, 
Have sunk beneath the trampling surge in beds of sparkling 
sand, 

While in the waste of ocean one hoary rock shall stand, 

Be this its latest legend — Here was the Pilgrim’s land! 

Study Helps and Questions 

1. Who were the Pilgrims? Why were they so called? In what 

part of our country did they settle? 

2. Describe the Pilgrim’s cabin. Why was the landscape about it 

so dreary? 

3. In his struggle against the hardships of his life in the new land, 

the Pilgrim is cheered by “a vision” of the land as it is to be. 
He calls his little child to his knee and tells him of his vision. 
What are some of the things the Pilgrim foresaw? 

4. Explain the reference made to the English flag and to the “new 

flag” that floats over the seas. 

5. Was the Pilgrim’s vision fulfilled? 

6. What share did the Pilgrim fathers have in the upbuilding of 

our country? 


THE VISION OF SIR LAUNFAL 

James Russell Lowell 

Prelude to Part First 

And what is so rare as a day in June? 

Then, if ever, come perfect days; 

Then Heaven tries the earth if it be in tune, 
And over it softly her warm ear lays; 
Whether we look, or whether we listen, 

We hear life murmur, or see it glisten; 

Every clod feels a stir of might, 

An instinct within it that reaches and towers, 
And, groping blindly above it for light, 

Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers; 



THE VISION OF SIR LAUNFAL 


301 

The flush of life may well be seen 
Thrilling back over hills and valleys; 

The cowslip startles in meadows green, 

The buttercup catches the sun in its chalice, 

And there’s never a leaf nor a blade too mean 
To be some happy creature’s palace; 

The little bird sits at his door in the sun, 

Atilt like a blossom among the leaves, 

And lets his illumined being o’errun 
With the deluge of summer it receives; 

His mate feels the eggs beneath her wings, 

And the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings; 

He sings to the wide world, and she to her nest — 

In the nice ear of Nature which song is the best? 


Now is the high-tide of the year, 

And whatever of life hath ebbed away 
Comes flooding back with a ripply cheer, 

Into every bare inlet and creek and bay; 

Now the heart is so full that a drop overfills it, 

We are happy now because God wills it; 

No matter how barren the past may have been, 

’Tis enough for us now that the leaves are green 
We sit in the warm shade and feel right well 
How the sap creeps up and the blossoms swell; 

We may shut our eyes, but we cannot help knowing 
That skies are clear and grass is growing; 

The breeze comes whispering in our ear, 

That dandelions are blossoming near, 

That maize has sprouted, that streams are flowing, 
That the river is bluer than the sky, 

That the robin is plastering his house hard by; 

And if the breeze kept the good news back 
For other couriers we should not lack; 


3°2 


PROPHETIC VISIONS 


We could guess it all by yon heifer’s lowing, 
And hark! how clear bold chanticleer, 

Warmed with the new wine of the year, 

Tells all in his lusty crowing 1 

Joy comes, grief goes, we know not how; 
Everything is happy now, 

Everything is upward striving; 

’Tis as easy now for the heart to be true 
As for grass to be green or skies to be blue, — 
’Tis the natural way of living. * 

Who knows whither the clouds have fled? 

In the unscarred heaven they leave no wake, 
And the eyes forget the tears they have shed, 
The heart forgets its sorrow and ache; 

The soul partakes the season’s youth, 

And the sulphurous rifts of passion and woe 
Lie deep ’neath a silence pure and smooth, 

Like burnt-out craters healed with snow. 
What wonder if Sir Launfal now 
Remembered the keeping of his vow? 

Part First 

i 

“My golden spurs now bring to me, 

And bring to me my richest mail, 

For to-morrow I go over land and sea 
In search of the Holy Grail; 

Shall never a bed for me be spread, 

Nor shall a pillow be under my head, 

Till I begin my vow to keep; 

Here on the rushes will I sleep, 

And perchance there may come a vision true 
Ere day create the world anew.” 


THE VISION OF SIR LAUNFAL 


303 


Slowly Sir Launfal’s eyes grew dim, 
Slumber fell like a cloud on him, 
And into his soul the vision flew. 


11 

The crows flapped over by twos and threes, 

In the pool drowsed the cattle up to their knees, 
The little birds sang as if it were 
The one day of summer in all the year, 

And the very leaves seemed to sing on the trees: 
The castle alone in the landscape lay 
Like an outpost of winter, dull and gray: 

’Twas the proudest hall in the North Countree, 
And never its gates might opened be, 

Save to lord or lady of high degree; 

Summer besieged it on every side, 

But the churlish stone her assaults defied; 

She could not scale the chilly wall, 

Though around it for leagues her pavilions tall 
Stretched left and right, 

Over the hills and out of sight; 

Green and broad was every tent, 

And out of each a murmur went 
Till the breeze fell off at night. 


hi 

The drawbridge dropped with a surly clang, 

And through the dark arch a charger sprang, 
Bearing Sir Launfal, the maiden knight, 

In his gilded mail, that flamed so bright 
It seemed the dark castle had gathered all 
Those shafts the fierce sun had shot over its wall 


3©4 


PROPHETIC VISIONS 


In his siege of three hundred summers long, 

And, binding them all in one blazing sheaf, 

Had cast them forth: so, young and strong, 

And lightsome as a locust leaf, 

Sir Launfal flashed forth in his maiden mail, 

To seek in all climes for the Holy Grail. 

IV 

It was morning on hill and stream and tree, 

And morning in the young knight’s heart; 

Only the castle moodily 

Rebuffed the gifts of the sunshine free, 

And gloomed by itself apart; 

The season brimmed all other things up 
Full as the rain fills the pitcher-plant’s cup. 

v 

As Sir Launfal made morn through the darksome gate, 
He was ’ware of a leper, crouched by the same, 
Who begged with his hand and moaned as he sate; 

And a loathing over Sir Launfal came; 

The sunshine went out of his soul with a thrill, 

The flesh ’neath his armor ’gan shrink and crawl, 

And midway its leap his heart stood still 
Like a frozen waterfall; 

For this man, so foul and bent of stature, 

Rasped harshly against his dainty nature, 

And seemed the one blot on the summer morn, — 

So he tossed him a piece of gold in scorn. 

VI 

The leper raised not the gold from the dust: 

‘ Better to me the poor man’s crust, 

Better the blessing of the poor, 

Though I turn me empty from his door; 


THE VISION OF SIR LAUNFAL 


305 


That is no true alms which the hand can hold; 

He gives nothing but worthless gold 
Who gives from a sense of duty; 

But he who gives but a slender mite, 

And gives to that which is out of sight, 

That thread of the all-sustaining Beauty 
Which runs through all and doth all unite, 

The hand cannot clasp the whole of his alms, 

The heart outstretches its eager palms, 

For a gold goes with it and makes it store 
To the soul that was starving in darkness before,” 

Prelude to Part Second 

Down swept the chill wind from the mountain peak, 
From the snow five thousand summers old; 

On open wold and hill-top bleak 
It had gathered all the cold, 

And whirled it like sleet on the wanderer’s cheek; 

It carried a shiver everywhere 

From the unleafed boughs and pastures bare; 

The little brook heard it and built a roof 
’Neath which he could house him, winter-proof; 

All night by the white stars’ frosty gleams 
He groined his arches and matched his beams; 
Slender and clear were his crystal spars 
As the lashes of light that trim the stars; 

He sculptured every summer delight 
In his halls and chambers out of sight; 

Sometimes his tinkling waters slipt 
Down through a frost-leaved forest crypt, 

Long, sparkling aisles of steel-stemmed trees 
Bending to counterfeit a breeze; 

Sometimes the roof no fretwork knew; 

But silvery mosses that downward grew; 


PROPHETIC VISIONS 


Sometimes it was carved in sharp relief 
With quaint arabesques of ice-fern leaf; 

Sometimes it was simply smooth and clear 

For the gladness of heaven to shiqe through, and here 

He had caught the nodding bullrush-tops 

And hung them thickly with diamond drops, 

That crystaled the beams of moon and sun, 

And made a star of every one: 

No mortal builder’s most rare device 
Could match this winter-palace of ice; 

’Twas as if every image that mirrored lay 
In his depths serene through the summer day, 

Each fleeting shadow of earth and sky, 

Lest the happy model should be lost, 

Had been mimicked in fairy masonry 
By the elfin builders of the frost. 

Within the hall are song and laughter, 

The cheeks of Christmas grow red and jolly, 

And sprouting is every corbel and rafter 
With lightsome green of ivy and holly; 

Through the deep gulf of the chimney wide 
Wallows the Yule-log’s roaring tide; 

The broad flame-pennons droop and flap 
And belly and tug as a flag in the wind; 

Like a locust shrills the imprisoned sap, 

Hunted to death in its galleries blind; 

And swift little troops of silent sparks, 

Now pausing, now scattering away as in fear, 

Go threading the soot-forest’s tangled darks 
Like herds of startled deer. 

But the wind without was eager and sharp, 

Of Sir Launfal’s gray hair it makes a harp, 

And rattles and wrings 
The icy strings, 


THE VISION OF SIR LAUNFAL 


307 


Singing, in dreary monotone, 

A Christmas carol of its own, 

Whose burden still, as he might guess, 

Was “Shelterless, shelterless, shelterless!” 

The voice of the seneschal flared like a torch 
As he shouted the wanderer away from the porch, 
And he sat in the gateway and saw all night 
The great hall-fire, so cheery and bold, 

Through the window-slits of the castle old, 
Build out its piers of ruddy light 
Against the drift of the cold. 

Part Second 

I 

There was never a leaf on bush or tree, 

The bare boughs rattled shudderingly; 

The river was dumb and could not speak, 

For the weaver Winter its shroud had spun; 

A single crow on the tree-top bleak 

From his shining feathers shed off the cold sun; 
Again it was morning, but shrunk and cold, 

As if her veins were sapless and old, 

And she rose up decrepitly 

For a last dim look at earth and sea. 

II 

Sir Launfal turned from his own hard gate, 

For another heir in his earldom sate; 

An old, bent man, worn out and frail, 

He came back from seeking the Holy Grail; 

Little he recked of his earldom’s loss, 

No more on his surcoat was blazoned the cross, 
But deep in his soul the sign he wore, 

The badge of the suffering and the poor. 


3°8 


PROPHETIC VISIONS 


III 

Sir LaunfaPs raiment thin and spare 
Was idle mail ’gainst the barbed air, 

For it was just at the Christmas time; 

So he mused, as he sat, of a sunnier clime, 

And sought for a shelter from cold and snow 
In the light and warmth of long ago; 

He sees the snake-like caravan crawl 
O’er the edge of the desert, black and small, 

Then nearer and nearer, till, one by one, 

He can count the camels in the sun, 

As over the red-hot sands they pass 
To where, in its slender necklace of grass, 

The little spring laughed and leapt in the shade, 
And with its own self like an infant played, 

And waved its signal of palms. 

IV 

“For Christ’s sweet sake, I beg an alms;” 

The happy camels may reach the spring, 

But Sir Launfal sees only the grewsome thing, 

The leper, lank as the rain-blanched bone, 

That cowers beside him, a thing as lone 
And white as the ice-isles of Northern seas 
In the desolate horror of his disease. 

v 

And Sir Launfal said, “I behold in thee 
An image of Him who died on the tree; 

Thou also hast had thy crown of thorns, 

Thou also hast had the world’s buffets and scorns, 

And to thy life were not denied 

The wounds in the hands and feet and side: 

Mild Mary’s Son, acknowledge me; 

Behold, through him, I give to Thee!” 


THE VISION OF SIR LAUNFAL 


309 


VI 

Then the soul of the leper stood up in his eyes 
And looked at Sir Launfal, and straightway he 
Remembered in what a haughtier guise 
He had flung an alms to leprosie, 

When he girt his young life up in gilded mail 
And set forth in search of the Holy Grail. 

The heart within him was ashes and dust; 

He parted in twain his single crust, 

He broke the ice on the streamlet’s brink, 

And gave the leper to eat and drink: 

’Twas a mouldy crust of coarse brown bread, 

’Twas water out of a wooden bowl, — 

Yet with fine wheaten bread was the leper fed, 

And ’twas red wine he drank with his thirsty soul. 

VII 

As Sir Launfal mused with a downcast face, 

A light shone round about the place; 

The leper no longer crouched at his side, 

But stood before him glorified, 

Shining and tall and fair and straight 

As the pillar that stood by the Beautiful Gate, — 

Himself the Gate whereby man can 

Enter the temple of God in Man. 

VIII 

His words were shed softer than leaves from the pine 
And they fell on Sir Launfal as snow on the brine, 
That mingle their softness and quiet in one 
With the shaggy unrest they float down upon; 

And the voice that was calmer than silence said, 

“Lo, it is I, be not afraid! 

In many climes, without avail, 

Thou hast spent thy life for the Holy Grail; 


PROPHETIC VISIONS 


3io 


Behold it is here, — this cup which thou 
Didst fill at the streamlet for me but now; 

This crust is my body broken for thee, 

This water His blood that died on the tree; 

The Holy Supper is kept, indeed, 

In whatso we share with another’s need, — 

Not what we give, but what we share, 

For the gift without the giver is bare; 

Who gives himself with his alms feeds three, — 
Himself, his hungering neighbor and me.” 

IX 

Sir Launfal awoke as from a swound: — 

“The Grail in my castle here is found! 

Hang my idle armor up on the wall, 

Let it be the spider’s banquet-hall; 

He must be fenced with stronger mail 
Who would seek and find the Holy Grail.” 

x 

The castle gate stands open now, 

And the wanderer is welcome to the hall 
As the hangbird is to the elm-tree bough; 

No longer scowl the turrets tall, 

The Summer’s long siege at last is o’er; 

When the first poor outcast went in at the door, 
She entered with him in disguise, 

And mastered the fortress by surprise; 

There is no spot she loves so well on ground, 

She lingers and smiles there the whole year round 
The meanest serf on Sir Launfal’s land 
Has hall and bower at his command; 

And there’s no poor man in the North Countree 
But is lord of the earldom as much as he. 


THE VISION OF SIR LAUNFAL 


3ii 

Study Helps and Questions 

James Russell Lowell lived at a time when there was much opposition 
to slavery. He felt very keenly the need of reform, and under the 
spell of his poetic vision he poured out his soul in glorious song. 

The following note, prefixed to all editions of the poem, helps to an 
understanding of its meaning: 

“ According to the mythology of the Romancers, the San Greal, or 
Holy Grail, was the cup out of which Jesus Christ partook of the Last 
Supper with his disciples. It was brought into England by Joseph of 
Arimathea, and remained there, an object of pilgrimage and adoration 
for many years, in the keeping of his lineal descendants. It was incum¬ 
bent upon those who had charge of it to be chaste in thought, word, 
and deed; but one of the keepers having broken this condition, the 
Holy Grail disappeared. From that time it was a favorite enterprise 
of the knights of Arthur’s court to go in search of it. Sir Galahad was 
at last successful in finding it, as may be read in the seventeenth book of 
the Romance of King Arthur. Tennyson has made Sir Galahad the 
subject of one of the most exquisite of his poems.” 

The poem is a story within a story. The first story tells of a knight, 
Sir Launfal, who has vowed to seek the Holy Grail. As he lies down to 
rest, he has a dream or “vision,” which is the second story. His dream 
is supposed to cover the events of his entire life. I11 reality it covers 
but a night, and Sir Launfal wakes in the morning changed in heart 
and purpose as the result of his vision. The preludes to both parts of 
the poem are particularly beautiful and suggestive of the theme of the 
story. 

1. What is meant by a prelude? 

2. What season of the year is described in the prelude to Part 

First? 

3. Explain the expression “rare as a day in June.” 

4. Read the beautiful description of Nature in June, and compare 

it with the springtime as you see it. 

5. Why is it easy for the heart to be happy in the springtime? 

6. How does the beauty of the springtime affect human beings? 

7. Who was Sir Launfal? 

8. What was his vow? 

9 . Tell the story of the Holy Grail. 


3 12 


PROPHETIC VISIONS 


io. Why did the June day make Sir Launfal desire to achieve his 
quest? 

n. What preparations did he make for his journey? 

12. Tell how he fell asleep on the rushes, and “a vision flew to his 

soul.” 

13. Describe Sir Launfal’s castle in the “North Countree.” 

14. Why did its gray stone walls seem out of keeping with the sum¬ 

mer day? 

15. Why were the gates opened only to lords and ladies of high 

degree? 

16. Compare the cold, gray, inhospitable castle with the beauty of 

the land about it, a beauty that was free to all. 

17. In his “vision,” Sir Launfal leaves his castle. Describe the young 

knight as he sets out on his quest. Note the lines that tell of 
his joyous spirit. 

18. Tell of Sir Launfal’s meeting with the leper at his gate. 

19. How did the appearance of the leper affect him? 

20. How did the leper receive the gold that Sir Launfal tossed him 

in scorn? 

21. What spirit did Sir Launfal show by his act? 

22. Express in your own words the thought contained in the leper’s 

speech. 

23. Give a picture of the winter landscape, as you see it from the 

poet’s description. 

24. Contrast winter in the Prelude to the Second Part with spring 

in the Prelude to the First Part. 

25. What did the poet seek to express in his choice of a spring scene 

as a Prelude to Part First and a winter scene as a Prelude to 
Part Second? 

26. Contrast Sir Launfal ,as he starts out on his quest with Sir 

Launfal as he returns from his journey. 

27. What expressions help you to judge of his age and condition? 

28. How was he received at his castle? 

29. Why was Sir Launfal turned away from his own gate? 


A VISION OF THE FUTURE 


313 

30. How did Sir Launfal feel about the loss of his earldom? Why 

did he no longer care about it? 

31. State in what ways Sir Launfal has changed. 

32. What feast was being celebrated when he returned? 

33. Of what was Sir Launfal thinking as he sat in the cold outside 

the castle gate? 

34. What scenes of other days did he recall? 

35. Who interrupted Sir LaunfaPs musings? 

36. Contrast Sir LaunfaPs first meeting with the leper with his 

second meeting. 

37. Whose image did he behold in the leper now? 

38. How did Sir Launfal respond to the leper’s second appeal for 

alms? 

39. How did the leper receive Sir LaunfaPs gift? 

40. How was the leper transformed? 

41. How did Sir Launfal achieve his quest of the Holy Grail? 

42. What lesson did Sir Launfal learn from his vision? 

43. How did he prove his love for his fellow-man? 

14. What lessons can we learn from this story? 


A VISION OF THE FUTURE 

And they shall beat their swords into plowshares 
and their spears into pruning hooks: nation shall not 
lift up a sword against nation, neither shall they learn 
war any more. But they shall sit every man under his 
vine and under his fig tree; and none shall make them 
afraid; for the mouth of the Lord of hosts hath spoken 
it. For all people will walk, every one in«the ruame of 
his god, and we will walk in the name of the Lord our 
God for ever and ever. — Old Testament . 



3i4 


PROPHETIC VISIONS 


LEAD, KINDLY LIGHT 

/ 

John Henry Newman 

Lead, kindly Light, amid th’ encircling gloom, 
Lead Thou me on; 

The night is dark, and I am far from home, 
Lead Thou me on. 

Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see 

The distant scene; one step enough for me. 

I was not ever thus, nor prayed that Thou 
Shouldst lead me on; 

I loved to choose and see my path; but now 
Lead Thou m6 on. 

I loved the garish day; and, spite of fears, 

Pride ruled my will: remember not past years. 

So long Thy power hath blest me; sure it still 
Will lead me on 

O’er moor and fen, o’er crag and torrent, till 
The night is gone, 

And with the morn those angel faces smile, 

Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile. 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 


Katherine Lee Bates (1859- ), Professor of English Literature at 

Wellesley College, is the author of several stories, essays, and poems. 
One of her most popular poems is “ America the Beautiful,” which is 
frequently used as a patriotic song. 

Henry Ward Beecher (1813-1887), a noted preacher, orator, and 
author. At one time he was the most popular lecturer in America. 
For forty years he was pastor of Plymouth Church, Brooklyn. His 
literary work treated largely of religious and political questions and 
current events. 

Henry Holcomb Bennett (1863- ), journalist, poet, and landscape 
painter, born in Chillicothe, Ohio. “ The Flag Goes By ” is his most 
popular poem. 

Mary Elizabeth Blake (1840- ), born in Ireland, but has lived most 

of her life in Boston. She is known as a writer of both prose and 
verse. Her poetic works include Verses by the Way, Youth in Twelve 
Centuries, and her prose compositions are Sketches of American 
Travel, Travel Experiences in Europe, and others. 

William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878), born at Cummington, Massa¬ 
chusetts. At an early period he showed marked literary ability. His 
poem, “ Thanatopsis,” was published when he was only twenty years 
old. He has written many poems about nature. He was a dis¬ 
tinguished poet and journalist. 

Robert Burns (1759-1796), a famous lyric poet of Scotland. He owed 
his popularity to the simple natural beauty of the style in which he 
portrayed the humor and pathos of peasant life. Although his educa¬ 
tion was meager and most of his life was spent as a poor farmer, he was 
the greatest of the poets who have sprung from the people. Two of 
his most popular long poems are “ Tam O’Shanter ” and “ The Cot¬ 
ter’s Saturday Night.” 

John C. Calhoun (1782-1850), born in Abbeville district, South 
Carolina. As a representative of his native state in the United States 
Senate, he was a strong advocate of free trade, his chief political oppo¬ 
nent being Daniel Webster. He was a great orator and statesman. 
He was one of the few great men who held that slavery is an advantage 

3i5 


BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 


3 l6 

to the negro and to his owner. He was a man of high ideals. Daniel 
Webster, who opposed him in Congress, said, “ Nothing low or selfish 
ever came near the head or heart of Mr. Calhoun.” 

Thomas Carlyle (1795-1881), born in Scotland. He was the son of 
a farmer, and was educated at Edinburgh University. He was an 
essayist, historian, and philosopher, his books possessing great literary 
merit. His best known works are his History of the French Revolution, 
Past and Present, Life of Frederick the Great, Sartor Resartus, and Heroes 
and Hero Worship. He died in London. 

Winston Churchill (1871- ), an American novelist, was born in St. 

Louis. He was graduated from the United States Naval Academy. 
His first literary work was a number of naval stories contributed to 
magazines. He has written several novels which are very popular. 
Among them are Richard Carvel, The Celebrity, The Crossing, The Crisis, 
and others. 

J. Hector St. John de Crevecoeur (1731-1813), an agriculturist and 
writer, and a French nobleman. He was educated in France, but later 
lived for a while in England, and came to America during the French 
and Indian War. He settled on a farm near New York City. His 
Letters from an American Farmer was translated into French and caused 
many Frenchmen to emigrate to America. He was at one time 
French Consul at New York. He finally returned to France, where he 
died. 

Charles Dickens (1812-1870), an English novelist, was conspicuous 
for his humor. He was a man of deep sympathy for the poor and 
oppressed, and his works were of great service in promoting social 
and legal reform. Some of his best books are, David Copperfield, which 
is largely autobiographical, Nicholas Nickleby, Martin Chuzzlewit, Pick¬ 
wick Papers, A Tale of Two Cities, Great Expectations, Our Mutual Friend, 
and others. His success as an author was based on his recognition of 
popular needs and tastes. He did much for the schools of England. 

Orville Dewey (1794-1882), born at Sheffield, Massachusetts. He 
was a Unitarian clergyman, and also a writer. 

George Washington Doane (1799-1839), a professor at Trinity Col¬ 
lege, Connecticut; later was elected Protestant Episcopal Bishop of 
New Jersey, his native State. 

Rene Doumic (i860- ), a distinguished French literary and dra¬ 
matic critic, was born at Paris. He is especially known for his criti¬ 
cisms published in the leading French journals. He was at one time a 
professor at Stanislas College, and lectured at Harvard University, 
and also in Canada. His writings are mostly in French. 


BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 


317 

Joseph Rodman Drake (1795-1820), an American poet, was born in 
New York. “ The Culprit Fay ” and “ The American Flag ” are his 
best known poems. 

William Crowell Edgar (1856- ), born at La Crosse, Wisconsin, 
was educated in the schools of St. Louis. He took a prominent 
part in the foreign relief movement, and did much to regulate the 
milling industry at home during the recent war. He is a contributor to a 
number of periodicals and is the author of numerous trade pamphlets. 

George Eliot (1819-1880), the pen name of Mrs. Mary Ann Evans 
Cross, an English novelist. She has written many novels which are 
very popular. Among them are The Mill on the Floss, Silas Marner , 
and Adam Bede. 

Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882), a celebrated American poet, 
philosopher, lecturer, and essayist, was born at Boston, Massachusetts. 
His work, characterized by high ideals and logical thinking, has done 
much to raise literary standards in America. He died at Concord, 
Massachusetts, where he had lived for half a century. 

Daniel Decatur Emmett (1815-1904), an American actor and song 
writer, was born at Mount Vernon, Ohio. He was especially success¬ 
ful in giving negro minstrel performances. He is best known as the 
author of “ Dixie,” which he composed for a minstrel show, but which 
afterwards became the famous war song of the South. He was also 
the author of several other popular songs. 

Edward Everett (1794-1865), born in Dorchester, Massachusetts, 
was graduated from Harvard University, in which he held a professor¬ 
ship for some time. Later he became a minister of the gospel, but 
resigned his calling to enter political life. He held many important 
political offices, and was the most famous speaker of his day. He raised 
thousands of dollars by his lecture on “ Washington,” which he gave 
for the purpose of helping the women of America to purchase and pre¬ 
serve “ Mount Vernon,” the home of Washington. He died in Boston. 

Francis M. Finch (1827-1907), an American poet, was the author of 
“ The Blue and the Gray,” “ Nathan Hale,” and other patriotic poems. 

John H. Finley (1863- ), born at Grand Ridge, Illinois, was at one 
time professor of politics at Princeton, later he was president of the 
College of the City of New York. In 1913 he was made Commissioner 
of Education in New York State. He has written many interesting 
articles on a variety of subjects ranging from pioneer life to the prob¬ 
lems of modern days. 

Benjamin Franklin (1706-1790), perhaps the best example of the 
self-made American, was born in Boston, Massachusetts, but ran away 


BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 


318 

at an early age to Philadelphia, where he made his home permanently. 
From a penniless boy, he rose by patient industry, frugality, and 
honesty, to a position of wealth, influence, and honor. From a printer’s 
devil he became an editor and publisher, educating himself largely by 
his own efforts. His interests were varied and extended to the fields 
of science, philosophy, literature, and politics. He served his country 
with tireless and unselfish devotion during the dark period of the 
Revolutionary War. He was sent to England to oppose the Stamp 
Act, but returned to America, signed the Declaration of Independence 
in 1776, and then was sent as an ambassador to France. Largely 
through his brilliant efforts France recognized and aided the Colonies 
in their struggle for freedom. Franklin was a delegate to the Federal 
Convention in 1787 which framed the Constitution of the United 
States. He was a true patriot and his generous and intelligent service 
to his country have emblazoned his name on the pages of the history 
of America. 

James A. Garfield (1831-1881), a fine example of self-made American, 
rose by his own efforts from poverty and obscurity to a position of power. 
He was at one time president of Hiram College in Ohio, his native 
state. He served as an officer in the Civil War but resigned his com¬ 
mission to accept a political position under President Lincoln. In 

1880 he was elected President of the United States, but was shot in 

1881 by a disappointed office seeker. 

Ellen Anderson Gholson Glasgow (1874- ), born in Richmond, 

Virginia, is a woman of broad education and has traveled extensively. 
She has written some interesting stories of life in the South. Some 
of her most popular books are: The Voice of the People , The Battle¬ 
ground, The Descendant ,” and others. 

Henry W. Grady (1851-1889), born at Athens, Georgia, was grad¬ 
uated from the University of Georgia and became a distinguished 
journalist, author, and editor. He was one of the editors and owners 
of the Atlanta Constitution. He used his influence to bring about a 
better understanding between the North and the South in the dark 
days following the Civil War, and his speech on “ The New South ” 
has been widely quoted. 

Arthur Guiterman (1871- ), born in Vienna, Austria, was educated 

in New York City. He has done editorial work for the leading Amer¬ 
ican magazines, and is a lecturer on magazine and newspaper work. 
He is also a writer of lyric verse and is the author of several books. 

Edward Everett Hale (1822-1909), a famous Boston clergyman, is 
best known as the author of The Man Without a Country. He wrote 


BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 


319 


many other books as well as newspaper and magazine articles. He was 
deeply interested in all charitable movements. He was a nephew of 
the distinguished Edward Everett. 

Felicia Dorothea Hemans (1793-1835), born in Liverpool, England, 
wrote a number of poems, the best known of which are “ The 
Landing of The Pilgrims ” and “ Casabianca.” 

Patrick Henry (1736-1799), “ the Tongue of the Revolution,” was 
born in Virginia. He sounded the trumpet note of freedom in his, great 
speech for liberty in the Virginia Convention of 1775. His impassioned 
oratory stirred the hearts of men to great patriotic fervor. He was a 
zealous patriot during the Revolution and afterwards took part in 
framing the Constitution of the United States. He was several times 
elected governor of Virginia. He belonged to a group of men who are 
loved and cherished as the founders of the American Republic. 

Josiah Gilbert Holland (1819-1881), an American poet, author, 
and journalist. Some of his best known works are “ Bitter Sweet,” 
“ Katrina,” Timothy Titcomb’s Letters, and Arthur Bonnicastle, the last 
named being a popular boy’s book. He was one of the founders of the 
Century Magazine. 

Oliver Wendell Holmes (1809-1894), sometimes called “ The Auto¬ 
crat of the Breakfast Table,” from the title of his best known book. 
He was a physician of Boston and for many years was a professor of 
medicine in Harvard University. He wrote many humorous and 
patriotic poems, and a number of essays. 

Joseph Hopkinson (1770-1842), the author of “ Hail Columbia,” 
was born in Philadelphia. He was the son of Francis H. Hopkinson, 
one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence. He was a dis¬ 
tinguished lawyer. 

Elbert Hubbard (1859-1915), born in Illinois, was an author and 
lecturer, and was proprietor of the Roycroft Shop in East Aurora, 
New York. His “ Message to Garcia ” was so popular that millions 
of copies were printed. He lost his life when the ill-fated Lusitania 
was sunk by a German submarine during the World War. 

Charles Evans Hughes (1862- ), born at Glen Falls, New York, 

entered the practice of law in New York City, and soon gained polit¬ 
ical prominence. In 1907, he was elected governor of New York, 
and later he was appointed an associate justice of the Supreme Court 
of the United States. In 1916, he was the Republican nominee for the 
presidency of the United States. 

Washington Irving (1783-1859), born in New York City, was the 
most popular of the early writers of the 19th Century, and was one of 


3 2 ° 


BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 


the earliest American writers to receive recognition in the world of 
letters. He lived abroad for a while, and was at one time connected 
with the United States Legation at London. After his return to Amer¬ 
ica he made his home at Tarrytown on the Hudson. Some of his popu¬ 
lar writings include: The Sketch Book , Bracebridge Hall , Life and Voyages 
of Columbus, and The Alhambra. 

John James Ingalls (1833-1900), born at Middleton, Massachusetts, 
was graduated from Williams College, studied law, and was 
admitted to the bar. He took a deep interest in political affairs, 
and held several important political positions. He was a brilliant 
speaker, and wrote much on topics of public interest for newspapers 
and magazines. 

John Ireland (1838-1919), born in Ireland, was educated at the Cathe¬ 
dral School, St. Paul, and then went to France to complete his studies. 
He was ordained a priest in 1861, and was archbishop of St. Paul. 
His best known work is The Church and Modern Society. 

Thomas Jefferson (1743-1826), the third president of the United 
States, was born in Albemarle County, Virginia. After his graduation 
from William and Mary College, he was admitted to the bar and began 
his long career of public service. Jefferson was one of the truly great 
men of our country, one of the founders of our Republic. He was a 
member of the Continental Congress, and drafted the Declaration of 
Independence. He held many important political positions, and was 
the father of the Democratic party. He is often regarded as the greatest 
political leader of his day. But his interests were not confined to poli¬ 
tics; he was deeply interested in educational affairs, and was the founder 
of the University of Virginia. He was a strong advocate of democratic 
principles of government, and he lived to see his ideals realized in the 
great nation whose political creed he helped to shape. He died at 
Monticello in Virginia on Independence Day, 1826. 

Francis Scott Key (1780-1843), born in Frederick County, Mary¬ 
land, was educated at St. John’s College, Annapolis, and entered the 
profession of law. At one time he was District Attorney of Washing¬ 
ton, D. C. Key wrote some verse, but only one of his poems is worthy 
of note. His fame rests on his authorship of “ The Star-Spangled 
Banner,” the national hymn of America. It was written in 1814, dur¬ 
ing the bombardment of Fort McHenry, Baltimore, by the English. Key 
was held as a prisoner on the English fleet. He wrote the first 
stanza of the song on the back of an old letter, just after the attack, 
and completed it on his return to Baltimore. It gained immediate 
popularity, and is now regarded as the national anthem of America. 


BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 


3 21 

An American flag always floats over the grave of Francis Scott Key in 
Frederick, Maryland. 

Rudyard Kipling (1865- ), an English poet and short story writer, 

was born in Bombay, India, of English parents. He was educated in 
England, but afterwards returned to India, where he lived for some time. 
He has written much of India, describing both civil and military life. 
His Jungle Books and Just So Stories are especially popular with 
children. 

Franklin K. Lane (1864- ), born at Prince Edward’s Island, Canada. 

In his early childhood he removed to California. He attended the 
University of California and practiced law in San Francisco. He was 
a member of the Interstate. Commerce Commission at Washington, 
which position he resigned to enter President Wilson’s cabinet as 
Secretary of the Interior. 

Abraham Lincoln (1809-1865), president of the United States during 
the Civil War, was born in Hardin (Larue) County, Kentucky. In 
his early boyhood he moved to Indiana, at that time little more than 
a wilderness. He educated himself largely through his own efforts, 
having no opportunity to go to school. He endured all the hardships 
of pioneer life. At the age of twenty-one he removed to Illinois, studied 
law, was elected to the legislature of Illinois, and later was sent to Con¬ 
gress. At this time the slavery question was uppermost in the public 
mind and Lincoln gained great prominence by his debates with Stephen 
A. Douglas on this subject. He became the leader of the Republican 
party and finally was nominated and elected to the presidency of the 
United States, serving during the bitter period of the Civil War. He 
was assassinated by John Wilkes Booth at Ford’s Theatre in Washing¬ 
ton, just five days after General Robert E. Lee’s surrender. Lincoln 
was a fine example of the democratic spirit of America, rising from 
poverty and obscurity to the highest position in the land, respected 
alike by friend and foe for his wisdom, justice, and broad humanity. 
His death was a distinct loss to the South as well as to the North. 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882), one of the best loved of 
American poets, whose simplicity of style and rare human sympathy 
have endeared him to all, especially to children, is sometimes called 
“ The Children’s Poet.” He was born in Portland, Maine. After 
spending some time abroad he removed to Cambridge, Massachusetts, 
where he became professor of modern languages at Harvard University. 
He died at Cambridge. Of his long poems the best known are “ The 
Song of Hiawatha,” “ Courtship of Miles Standish,” “ Tales of a Way- 
side Inn,” and “ Evangeline.” 


3 22 


BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 


James Russell Lowell (1819-1891), a distinguished American poet, 
essayist, scholar, and diplomat, succeeded Longfellow as professor of 
modern languages at Harvard University. He was editor of the 
Atlantic Monthly and of the North American Review. He was am¬ 
bassador to Spain and later to Great Britain. Among his best known 
works are his “ Odes,” “ The Vision of Sir Launfal,” “ Biglow Papers,” 
and “ Political Essays.” 

John McCrae (1872-1918), poet, physician, and lecturer, was born 
in Guelph, Ontario. As a civilian, he held the position of a lecturer 
in medicine at McGill University. At the outbreak of the World War 
he was appointed surgeon to a Canadian regiment, and for fourteen 
months he saw continuous service. His health was undermined by 
the strain, and he died in France in January, 1918. He is best known 
by his poem “ In Flanders Fields,” which is regarded as one of the 
foremost poems of the World War. It has already been translated 
into many languages. 

Charles Mackay (1814-1889), a Scottish poet and editor, was the 
War Correspondent of the London Times in the United States during 
the Civil War. He has written some stirring poems, of which “ Tubal 
Cain ” is one of the best known. 

Walter Malone (1866-1915), an American poet and jurist, was born 
in DeSoto County, Mississippi. He was graduated from the Uni¬ 
versity of Mississippi and entered the practice of law. On petition 
of the members of the Memphis bar, he was appointed judge of the 
Circuit Court of Shelby County. He contributed to the periodicals 
of the day, and was the author of many poems. An association has 
been formed to have his poem, “ Opportunity,” cast in bronze and the 
tablet placed in Court Square in the heart of Memphis. 

Joaquin Miller (1841-1912) was born in Indiana, but when he was 
quite young he moved with his parents to Oregon. The West was at 
that time a wild, undeveloped country, and Miller was intimately 
associated with its life. He worked in the gold mines of California, 
fought Indians, drove stagecoaches, and then returned to Oregon, where 
he edited a newspaper and studied and practiced law. He wrote 
many poems and stories, most of them about wild life in the early days 
of the West. Miller spent some time in England, and later engaged 
in newspaper work in New York and Washington. He finally returned 
to California, where he died at his home in Oakland. 

James Monroe (1758-1831), the fifth president of the United States, 
born in Westmoreland County, Virginia. He left school at a very 
early age to fight in the Revolutionary War. After the Revolution 


BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 


3 2 3 


he entered public life and held many prominent positions. He was 
Governor of Virginia, United States Senator, Secretary of State, Min¬ 
ister to France and Great Britain, and was twice elected president of 
the United States. One of the leading events of his administration 
was the setting forth of the Monroe Doctrine. He was a man of 
upright character, and his public life was marked by honesty of 
purpose and devotion to duty. He died in New York on the fourth 
of July. 

Wilbur Dick Nesbit (1871- ), born in Xenia, Ohio, has engaged 
extensively in newspaper work, and his writings include both prose 
and poetry. 

John Henry Newman (1801-1890), born in London, England, had 
a brilliant mind, and even in his early years showed marked literary 
ability. He was graduated at an early age from Oxford and became a 
minister in the Church of England. Later he changed his religious 
belief, and entered the Roman Catholic Church, in which he became a 
priest, and finally cardinal. His poem, “ Lead, Kindly Light ” shows 
the struggle of his soul. It is a prayer to God for guidance, and it is 
now sung as a hymn in many churches. 

Theodore O’Hara (€820-1867), born in Danville, Kentucky, prac¬ 
ticed law for a while after he finished college. At the outbreak of the 
Mexican War, he entered the American army and rose to the rank of 
major. In the Civil War he was a colonel in the Confederate army. 
He owes his literary fame to his poem “ The Bivouac of the Dead.” 
He died near Guerrytown, Alabama. 

James Ryder Randall (1839-1908), born in Baltimore, Maryland, 
was a student of Georgetown College and afterwards held a professor¬ 
ship at Poydras College, Louisiana. He entered newspaper work and 
was associated with the Augusta Chronicle. He is best known as the 
author of the popular war song, “ Maryland, My Maryland.” 

Theodore Roosevelt (1858-1919) was born in New York City. 
After his graduation from Harvard University he held many promi¬ 
nent political positions. In the Spanish-American War he was the 
organizer and leader of a volunteer cavalry regiment, the Rough Riders, 
with which he fought in Cuba. On his return to the United States 
he was elected governor of New York. Later he was elected vice- 
president of the United States, becoming president on the death of 
President McKinley. He was elected to succeed himself. He traveled 
much in the interest of scientific research and was the author of many 
books on history, biography, politics, sport, and travel. He died 
suddenly at his home in Oyster Bay, New York, 


324 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 

Claude Joseph Rouget de Lisle (1760-1836) owes his fame to the 
fact that he is the author of “ La Marseillaise,” the national song of 
France. It was composed in 1792, and when sung by a regiment in 
Marseilles, it fired the people, already aroused, to a keen sense of their 
oppression. It was sung by the Revolutionists in Paris, and when the 
king was beheaded, the monarchy overthrown, and a republic 
established, “ La Marseillaise ” became the national hymn of 
France. 

Abram Joseph Ryan (1839-1886), “ the poet-laureate of the Con¬ 
federacy,” as he is often called, was born in Norfolk, Virginia. He was 
a priest of the Roman Catholic Church, and during the Civil War he 
served as a chaplain in the Confederate army. At various times he 
was stationed at churches in Augusta, Knoxville, New Orleans, and 
Mobile. His poems are popular, many of them expressing his intense 
love for the South, notably “ The Conquered Banner ” and “ The Sword 
of Robert E. Lee.” Father Ryan was also a lecturer and the editor 
of several religious journals. He died in Louisville, Kentucky. 

Sir Walter Scott (1771-1832), a famous novelist and poet, 
was born in Edinburgh, Scotland. As a child he was lame, and spent 
some time in the country near Melrose Abbey. It was here that he 
learned much of Scottish history and Scottish legends, and many 
stories of the border wars, all of which influenced his literary work. 
His best known poems are “ The Lady of the Lake,” “ Marmion” 
and “ The Lay of the Last Minstrel.” His best prose works are his 
“ Waverly Novels.” He became rich and famous. The king conferred 
a title upon him, and he had a beautiful castle called Abbottsford, 
where he lived happily with his family. Misfortune, however, came 
to him in his late years. Through an unfortunate business venture 
he lost all his money and found himself heavily in debt. He set to work 
cheerfully to pay his debts by his writings. His health broke under 
the strain of his labors and he died, distinguished no less for his honesty 
and high principles than for his literary genius. 

Robert Service (1874- ), sometimes called “ The American Kip¬ 

ling,” was born in Preston, England, but emigrated to Canada, where 
he engaged in farming, and became an explorer. He later joined the 
staff of a Canadian bank. He has written a number of books, but he 
is best known by his Rhymes of a Red Cross Man, which grew out of 
his service as an ambulance driver in the World War. 

Edward Rowland Sill (1841-1887), an American poet and essayist, 
was a graduate of Yale, and for some years held the chair of English 
language and literature in the University of California. 


BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 


325 


Samuel Francis Smith (1808-1895), an American clergyman and 
hymn-writer, was born in Boston. He was graduated from Harvard 
University and from the seminary at Andover. His compositions 
include both prose and poetry, but he is best known as the author of 
the patriotic hymn, “ America.” 

Frank Lebby Stanton (1859- ), poet and newspaper correspondent, 

was born in South Carolina, but has lived most of his life in Georgia. 
He is on the staff of the Atlanta Constitution. He has published several 
volumes of poems. 

Edward Steiner (1866- ), born in Vienna, Austria, was educated 

in Germany. He is a professor at Grinnell College, Iowa, and is deeply 
interested in sociological problems, especially those concerning foreign 
immigrants and their needs. 

William Makepeace Thackeray (1811-1861) was born in Calcutta, 
India. His father, an English government official, died when Thackeray 
was only five years old, and the boy was sent to England to school. 
He entered Cambridge University, but did not finish his course. He 
tried several professions in all of which he failed, and after many re¬ 
verses he achieved success as a novelist. Vanity Fair is his best known 
book. Henry Esmond, Pendennis, The Newcomes, and The Vir¬ 
ginians are also popular. 

Frank O. Ticknor (1822-1874), born in Clinton, Georgia, attended 
school in the North. He spent most of his life as a simple country 
physician, living on his farm in Georgia, and writing his poems on the 
backs of prescription blanks. One volume of his poetry has been pub¬ 
lished. He died near Columbus, Georgia. 

Leo Tolstoy (1828-1910), a famous Russian author, whose writings 
embrace a variety of subjects, lived and worked much among peasants, 
although a nobleman, and even did manual labor himself. He was a 
man of brilliant mind and a deep thinker, but his ideas were erratic. 
His writings have been translated into many languages. 

Henry Pitt Warren (1846- ), born at Windham, Maine, is a grad¬ 
uate of Yale, and has been prominently associated with many of the 
leading schools of the East. He is the author of Stories from English 
H istory. 

George Washington (1732-1799), the first president of the United 
States, is fitly termed the father of our country. He was born in 
Westmoreland County, Virginia. After he left school he took up the 
work of surveying the mountain lands of Virginia, a work which made 
him familiar with woodcraft and the ways of Indians. When the French 
and Indian War broke out, Washington was placed in command of the 


BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 


326 

Virginia troops. In Braddock’s unsuccessful expedition against Fort 
Duquesne, his experience and judgment saved the army from utter 
rout. During the War of the Revolution, Washington was made com¬ 
mander-in-chief of the American forces. In the bitter and unequal 
struggle, Washington’s ability as a military leader, and his patience 
and courage in the face of hardships, were wonderful assets in the 
struggle for independence. After peace was declared Washington 
had an important part in framing the Constitution of the United 
States. He was twice elected to the presidency without opposition, 
but refused a third term and retired to Mount Vernon to his beautiful 
estate on the Potomac, where he spent the rest of his days in peace. 
He was buried at Mount Vernon. 

Walt Whitman (1819-1892), an American poet and philanthropist, 
during the Civil War did splendid work in the hospitals around Wash¬ 
ington, serving the needs of friend and foe alike. He was a great ad¬ 
mirer of Abraham Lincoln, and wrote “ O Captain, My Captain! ” 
to commemorate his death. 

John Greenleaf Whittier (1807-1892), “ the Quaker Poet ” as he is 
sometimes called, was born in Haverhill, Massachusetts. He went 
to the district school for a few months out of the year, but was too 
poor to go to college. He attended Haverhill Academy for a short 
time, earning the money to pay his way by making slippers. At an 
early age he began to write verse, and his literary ability developed 
with his years. In his poem “ Snow-Bound ” he has given us a splendid 
picture of life on a New England farm, the humble rural life of his own 
childhood. Whittier was deeply interested in the political questions 
of the day, and wrote many patriotic poems. He died at Hampton 
Falls, New Hampshire, in his eighty-fifth year. 

Woodrow Wilson (1856- ), a Virginian by birth, has spent much 

of his time in New Jersey, where he was president of Princeton Uni¬ 
versity for eight years and later governor of the State. He was elected 
President of the United States in 1913 and reelected in 1917, serving 
during the great crisis of our nation’s part in the World War. He took 
a prominent part in the Peace Conference at Paris and worked hard 
for the success of the League of Nations. He is an able writer and is 
the author of many books and magazine articles. 


KEY TO PRONUNCIATION 


The diacritical marks used are those employed in the latest edition 
of Webster’s International Dictionary. The unmarked vowels are 
usually short unaccented vowels. 


a 

as in mate 

0 

as 

in hole 

a 

as in mat 

6 

as 

in ndt 

a 

as in far 

6 

as 

in lost 

a 

as in task 

6 

as 

in obey 

a 

as in c^re 




a 

as in senate 

u 

as 

in sure 

a 

as in fall 

u 

as 

in rub 



u 

as 

in turn 

e 

as in me 

u 

as 

in unite 

6 

as in mSt 

u 

as 

in rude 

e 

as in her 




e 

as in event 

*00 

as 

in pity' 

i 

as in pine 

00 

as 

in moon 

i 

as in pin 

do 

as 

in wool 


n (ng) as in bank 
th as in smooth 

th as in thin 

k for c as in fabric 

t for ed as in crossed 
f for ph as in triumph 
ks for x as in vex 

gz for x as in exist 

j for g as in gem 

sh for ch as in machine 
zh for z as in azure 
zh for si as in vision 
k for ch as in anarchy 
kw for qu as in queen 
ti and ci like sh in nation, gracious. 


327 














VOCABULARY 


aboriginal (ab 5 rij'i nal), original, 
primitive. 

abstinence (ab'sti nens), self de¬ 
nial. 

abundant (a bun'dant), plentiful. 

abyss (a bis'), a bottomless depth. 

accomplished (ak kom'plisht), 
finished. 

accountable (ak kount'a bl), re¬ 
sponsible. 

accumulation (ak ku'mu la'shun), 
an increasing in size, number, or 
quantity. 

achieve (a chev'), to accomplish. 

adequate (ad'e kwat), sufficient. 

adventurous (ad ven'tur us), dar¬ 
ing. 

adversary (ad'ver sa ri), an op¬ 
ponent. 

agency (a'jgn si), operation, an 
establishment for the purpose 
of doing business for another. 

aggression (2,g gresh'iin), an un¬ 
provoked attack. 

alabaster (al a bas'ter), like white 
marble. 

alien (al'yen), a foreigner not 
naturalized. 

allegiance (21 le'jans), loyalty to 
a government. 

alliance (al li'ans), union between 
nations. 

allurement (a lur'ment), attrac¬ 
tion, temptation. 


ambrosial (am bro'zhi al), fra¬ 
grant. 

amicable (am'i ka bl), friendly, 
peaceable. 

anarchy (an'arki), a lawless con¬ 
dition of society. 

ancestors (an'sSs ters), forefathers, 
anchored (am'kerd), held fast, 
ancient (an'shent), of past times, 
anguish (2n'gwish), intense bodily 
or mental suffering, 
annals (an'nalz), history of events 
of each year in order of sequence, 
anthem (an'them), a sacred song, 
antiquity (an tik'wi ti), great age, 
ancient times. 

anxiety (ang zi'e ti), uneasiness of 
mind. 

arabesque (ar'a bSsk), fanciful 
figures on the style of Arabic 
decorative art. 

ardent (ar'dent), fiery, eager, 
arduous (ar'du us), difficult, 
arrogance (a.r'ro gans), haughti¬ 
ness, pride. 

aspect (as'peckt), air, appearance, 
aspiration (as pi ra'shun), yearn¬ 
ing, ambition, 
assign (a,s sin'), to appoint, 
assurance (a sh'urans), confidence, 
self-possession, impudence, 
atheists (a/the ists), persons who 
deny the existence of God. 
attire (at tir'), dress, clothing. 


329 



33° 


VOCABULARY 


audible (aw'di bl), capable of 
being heard. 

augmented (awg ment'ed), in¬ 
creased. 

autocratic (aw to kr&t'ik), holding 
supreme power. 

avarice (av'a ris), greediness, es¬ 
pecially for money. 

Azores (a zors'), a group of islands, 
belonging to Portugal, but 
lying far to the West, 
azure (fizh'fir or a'zhur), clear 
blue as the blue of the sky. 

Baal (ba'al), a ancient Eastern 
god. 

baldric (bawl'drik or bal drik), a 
broad belt. 

banditti (ban dit'i), robbers, out¬ 
laws. 

barbed (barb'd), sharp pointed, 
barricades (bar rf kads'), hastily 
constructed fortifications, 
battalions (ba tal'yfins), bodies of 
infantry forming divisions of a 
regiment. 

belligerents (bel lij'gr ents), powers 
engaged in war. 

benedicite (bSn e dis'i te), a Latin 
word meaning “ Bless you.” 
beneficent (be nef'i sent), charac¬ 
terized by kindness, 
benevolent (be nev' o lent), kind, 
charitable. 

benign (be nin'), kind, gracious. 
Berserk (ber'serk), a fierce warrior 
in the Norse legends, 
bivouac (biv'oo ak), an encamp¬ 
ment without tents in the open 
air. 

blanched (blanchd), became pale. 


blazoned (bla'znd), adorned, deco¬ 
rated in colors. 

brilliant (bril'yant), sparkling, dis¬ 
tinguished. 

buffets (bfif'Sts), blows. 

calumet (k&l'u met), the peace 
pipe of North American Indians, 
carnage (kar'naj), slaughter, mas¬ 
sacre. 

cavernous (kav'ern us), cave-like, 
full of hollows. 

celestial (se les'chal), heavenly, 
chagrin (sha grin'or gren'), morti¬ 
fication, vexation, 
challenge (chal'lenj), to invite to 
a contest, to defy, 
chaplets (chap'lets), a wreath 
encircling the head, a rosary, 
chivalry (shiv'alri), manners and 
customs of knights, 
clamorous (klam'er iis), noisy, 
clangor (klan'ger), a sharp clang, 
clarion (klar'i fin), like a trumpet, 
clement (klem'ent), merciful, 
gentle. 

cofiers (kfif'fers), chests, a treasury, 
compassion (kom pash'fin), sym¬ 
pathy. 

compensation (kfim'pen sa'shfin), 
amends, recompense, 
competence (kom'pe tens), suffi¬ 
ciency. 

comprehended (kom pre hgnd'ed), 
understood. 

compulsory (kfim pfil'so ri), exer¬ 
cising force, obligatory, 
conglomerate (kfin glom'er at), to 
collect or cluster together, 
consecrated (kon'se krat ed), made 
sacred, devoted. 


VOCABULARY 


constellation (kbn'stel la'shun), 

a group of fixed stars, splendors, 
constrains (kon strans'), forces, 
restrains. 

contention (kon ten'shun), debate, 
contest. 

convene (kon ven'), to assemble, 
cooperation (ko 6p'er a'shun), 

working together, 
cormorant (kor'mo rant), a bird 
of prey. 

coronal (kor'o nal), like a crown, 
corporeal (kor po're al), physical, 
corsair (kor'sar), a pirate, 
crevice (krgv'is), a crack, a fissure, 
crises (kri'sez), emergencies. 

dauntless (dant'les), fearless, 
decimation (des'i ma shun), de¬ 
struction of a tenth, hence of a 
large proportion. 

defiance (de fi'ans), a challenge, 
disregard. 

demagogue (dem'agog), a popu¬ 
lar orator who usually speaks 
against constituted authority, 
demented (de ment'ed), insane, 
delectable (de lek'ta bl), delight¬ 
ful. 

denizen (den'izn), an inhabitant, 
desecrate (des'e krat), to profane, 
desolation (des'o la'shun), ruin, 
destruction. 

despondency (de spond'en si), 
mental depression, 
despotism (des'po tizm), tyranny, 
destiny (des't! ni), fate, 
devastated (dev'as tat ed), plun¬ 
dered, laid waste, 
diffusion (dif fu'zhun), spreading 
abroad. 


331 

disastrous (diz 2,s'trus), unfor¬ 

tunate, calamitous, 
discipline (dis'si plin), subjection 
to control. 

disconsolate (dis kon'so lat), sad. 

discretion (dis kresh'un), pru¬ 

dence, judgment, 
dissonant (dis'so nant), discordant, 
divergence (di ver'jens), going 

apart from each other, 
document (dok'u ment), a paper 
relied upon to establish a fact, 
dogmatic (dog mat'ik), positive, 
dole (dol), alms. 

domination (dom'i na'shun), 

power, absolute authority, 
dominion (do min'yim), supreme 
authority, control. 

Druid (dru'id), a priest of the 
ancient Celtic tribes, 
dungeons (dun'jims), underground 
cells, prisons. 

dynasties (di'nas tiz), a succes¬ 
sion of rulers of the same family. 

efficient (ef fish'ent), capable, 
effective. 

effulgent (ef ful'jent), of great 
brightness or splendor, 
ejaculated (e jak'u lat ed), uttered 
suddenly. 

emancipated (e man's! pat ed), 
freedom. 

emblazon (embla'zn), to adorn, 
to celebrate the praises of. 
emblem (em'blem), a visible sign 
of an idea, a symbolical figure, 
emerge (e merj'), to come forth, 
emigrants (emigrants), people 
who leave their own country to 
settle in another. 


33 2 


VOCABULARY 


emphasis (em'fa sis), special force 
of language or thought, 
enamored (en am'erd), captivated, 
delighted. 

endeavor (en dSv'er), to strive to 
attain; to attempt, 
epitaph (ep'i taf), an inscription 
on a tomb. 

essential (es sen'shal), most im¬ 
portant, necessary, 
estimate (es'ti mat), to determine 
the value of. 

evinces (e vms'es), shows, makes 
evident. 

evolved (evolvd'), developed, 
worked out. 

exemplified (egz em'pli fid), il¬ 
lustrated by example, 
exiles (ex'ils), people banished or 
forced to live away from their 
native land, 
exist (egz ist'), to live, 
exodus (eks' od us), going away 
to another place. 

expedients (eks pe'di ents), de¬ 
vices, means to an end. 
exploits (eks ploits'), remarkable 
or heroic deeds. 

extenuate (eks ten'u at), to offer 
excuses for. 

extremity (eks trem'i ti), the ut¬ 
most point, the end. 
exuberant (eks u'ber ant), abun¬ 
dant. 

exultation (eks iii ta'shun), trium¬ 
phant rejoicing. 

fabric (fab'rik), a building, a 
woven material. 

facetious (fa se'shus), humorous. 


faculties (fak'ul tiz), mental or 
physical powers. 

falcon-eyed (faw'kn-Id), sharp- 

eyed. 

familiar (fa mil'yer), well ac¬ 
quainted with, easy, uncere¬ 
monious. 

famine (fam'm), great scarcity, 
starvation. 

famished (fam'ishd), starved, 
fantasy (fan'ta si), a strange 
fancy. 

fascination (fas si na'shun), charm, 
attraction. 

feasible (fe'zi bl), practicable, 
felicity (fe lis'i ti), happiness, pros¬ 
perity. 

fetters (fet'ers), shackles, chains, 
feuds (fuds), quarrels, enmities, 
fidelity (fi del'i ti), loyalty, faith¬ 
fulness. 

fiendish (fend'ish), like a demon, 
wicked. 

firmament (fer' ma ment), the 

sky. 

foreign (for'en), alien, belonging 
to another country, 
forfeit (for'fit), a fine, to lose, 
formidable (for'mid a bl), fearful, 
powerful. 

fragment (fr&g'ment), a piece 
broken off from a whole, 
fragrance (fra'grans), sweet odor, 
franchise (fran'chiz), a constitu¬ 
tional right. 

frontiers (fron'terz), boundaries 
of a country. 

frugal (fru'gal), thrifty, econom¬ 
ical. 

fundamental (fun da mSn'tal), es¬ 
sential, basis. 


VOCABULARY 


333 


gangrene (gan'gren), the first 
state of mortification. 

Gates of Hercules (Her'cu lez), 
an ancient name of the two 
opposite capes at the Strait of 
Gibraltar. 

generation (gen era/shun), people 
of the same period, 
gerfalcon (jer'faw k’n), a large 
hawk. 

ghastly (gast'li), pale, haggard, 
gorgeous (gor'jus), splendid, 
showy. 

guidon (gi'dun), the flag of a 
troop or a guild. 

guinea (gin'e), a gold coin formerly 
used in England, value about 
$ 5 - 

gyves (jivs), fetters, shackles, us¬ 
ually for the leg. 

hamlets (ham'lets), small villages, 
harmonize (har'mo niz), to rec¬ 
oncile, to agree. 

heraldic (he ral'dik), relating to 
heralds or heraldry, 
hereditary (he red'i ta ri), passing 
from an ancestor to a descend¬ 
ant, from parent to child, 
heritage (her'i taj), a birthright 
or inheritance. 

Hessians (hesh'ans), soldiers of 
Hesse, Germany, hired to fight 
in the British Army, 
hideous (hid'e us), dreadful, hor¬ 
rible. 

hirelings (hir'ling), hired servants, 
hoary (her'i), ancient, grey with 
age. 

homage (hom'aj), deference, rev¬ 
erence. 


hordes (hords), vast multitudes, 
hospitality (hos pi tal'i ti), gen¬ 
erous entertainment of strangers, 
hostile (hos'til), showing enmity, 
hovel (hov'l), a hut or cabin. 

idealism (i de'al izm), an effort to 
attain the highest type, 
illumined (il lum'min’d), enlight¬ 
ened, made plain, 
illusions (il lu'zhunz), false ideas, 
imbecile (im'be sil), feeble¬ 
minded, foolish. 

immortality (im mor tal'i ti), un¬ 
ending existence, 
impartial (im par'shal), fair, just, 
impassive (im pas'iv), without 
emotion or feeling, 
impassioned (im pash'und), ex¬ 
cited. 

imperial (im pe'ri al), royal, sov¬ 
ereign. 

impervious (im per'vi us), im¬ 
penetrable, unyielding, 
impious (Im'pius), wicked, pro¬ 
fane. 

implements (im'ple ments), tools, 
imprecations (im pre ka'shuns), 
curses. 

impropriety (im pro pri'e ti), un¬ 
suitableness. 

inalienable (in al'yen a bl), cannot 
be surrendered to another, 
incarcerated (in kar'ser at’d), im¬ 
prisoned. 

incoherencies (in ko her'en siz), 
lack of connection, looseness, 
indemnity (in dem'ni ti), compen¬ 
sation for loss. 

indomitable (in dSm'i ta bl), can¬ 
not be conquered. 



334 


VOCABULARY 


inestimable (in es'ti ma bl), in¬ 
valuable. 

infirmity (in fer'mi ti), weakness 
of body or mind. 

ingenuity (in je nu'i ti), cleverness, 
skill. 

inscrutable (in skroo'ta bl), can¬ 
not be understood. 

inseparable (in sep'a ra bl), can¬ 
not be separated or divided. 

insidious (in sid'i us), treacherous, 
deceitful. 

insignia (m sig'ni a), badges of 
honor or office. 

Insurgents (in ser'jents), Cubans 
who rebelled against Spanish 
rule. 

inundation (in iin da'shun), flood. 

invincible (in vin'si bl), uncon¬ 
querable. 

irruption (ir riip'shun), bursting 
in, sudden invasion. 

jungle (jiin'gl), dense tropical 
forest. 

jurisprudence (ju ris prob'dens), 
system of laws of a country. 

keel (kel), the bottom or founda¬ 
tion of a boat. 

knavish (nav'ish), dishonest, mis¬ 
chievous. 

laborious (la bo'ri us), difficult, 
toilsome. 

laudable (lawd'a bl), praiseworthy 
commendable. 

league (leg), a confederacy, an 
alliance for mutual interest. 

legislator (lej'is la ter), a lawgiver. 

levees (lev'ez), morning receptions 
held by persons of high rank. 


liberated (lib'er at’d), set free, 
liegemen (lej'men), men bound to 
service, vassals, 
limpid (lim'pid), clear, 
lithe (lith), supple, pliant. 

magician (ma jish'an), one skilled 
in magic. 

Magna Carta (mag'na kar'ta), the 
Great Charter granted by King 
John to the barons in 1215. 
magnetism (mag'ne tizm), the 
power to attract. 

maintenance (man'te nans), sup¬ 
port. 

majesties (maj'es tiz), grandeur, 
maniacal (ma nl'a kal), like a mad¬ 
man, unreasonable, 
manifold (man'i fold), numerous. 
Manitou (man'i too), the Great 
Spirit of the North American 
Indians. 

marauder (marawd'er), a rover 
in search of plunder, 
martial (mar'shal), military. 
Martin Alonzo Pinzon (a lon'tho 
pen thon'), a Spanish navigator 
who sailed with Columbus, 
marvelous (mar'vel us), wonder¬ 
ful, extraordinary, 
massive (mas'iv), heavy, weighty, 
maudlin (mawd'lm), foolish, 
weakly sentimental, 
meditation (med i ta'shun), deep 
thought. 

menace (men'as), a threat, a 
danger. 

mickle (mik'el), much, 
mien (men), air, look, carriage, 
missive (mis'iv), a letter or mes¬ 
sage. 


VOCABULARY 


momentous (mo men'tus), very 
important. 

monotonous (mo not'd nils), 

wearisome, unvarying, 
motive (mo'tiv), reason, that 
which moves to action, 
mustered (miis'terd), the as¬ 
sembly of troops in one place, 
mutilation (mu ti la'shun), de¬ 
struction, maiming, 
mutinous (mu'ti nus), to rise 
against authority, rebellious, 
mystic (mis'tik), obscure, con¬ 
taining mystery, not understood. 

narrative (nar'ra tiv), recital of 
a story or event, a tale, 
nethermost (neth'er most), lowest, 
neutrality (nu tral'i ti), having no 
part on either side in a contest, 
nourish (nur'ish), to feed or bring 
up, to supply. 

oblivious (ob liv'i us), forgetful, 
observance (ob zer'vans), perfor¬ 
mance of rites; act of observing 
or noticing. 

obstructed (ob strukt'd), hindered, 
impeded, interrupted, 
odorous (o'der us), fragrant, 
opportunity (dp por tu'ni ti), a 
convenient time or occasion, 
oppressor (op pres'er), one who 
treats others unjustly severely, 
opulence (op'u lens), wealth, 
riches. 

palisades (palisads'), fences or 
fortifications formed of stakes 
driven into the ground and 
pointed at the top. 


335 

paltry (pal'tri or pawl'tri), worth¬ 
less, contemptible, 
parole (pa rol'), a word of honor 
given by a prisoner of war. 
partakes (par taks), shares, 
particles (part'i kls), very small 
pieces. 

paternity (pa ter'ni ti), fatherhood, 
pathos (pa'thos), sadness, 
patriots (pa'tri ots), persons who 
are devoted to their native 
country. 

peasants (pez'ants), countrymen, 
peered (perd), looked narrowly, 
peerless (per'les), without an equal, 
pelf (pelf), money, wealth, often 
secured dishonestly, 
penetrate (pen'e trat), to enter, 
to reach the mind, 
penury (pen'u ri), poverty, 
peons (pe'onz), Mexican laborers, 
perplexity (per pleks'i ti), em- 

barassment, doubt, 
perseverance (per se ver'ans), con¬ 
tinuing steadily at any under¬ 
taking. 

phantoms (fan'tums), fancied 

visions. 

pilgrim (pil'grim), a traveler, 
pioneer (pi oner'), one who goes 
before to prepare the way for 
another. 

placidly (plas'id li), calmly, 
plastic (plas'tik), something that 
can be molded or formed, 
plighted (plit'ed), promised, 
pledged. 

plutocracy (ploo tok'ra si), gov¬ 
ernment by the rich, 
pollution (pol lu'shun), defilement, 
uncleanness. 


VOCABULARY 


33 6 

ponderous (pon'der us), heavy, 
important. 

populous (pop'u lus), thickly 
peopled. 

portage (port'aj), a break in a 
chain of water communication 
over which boats and goods 
have to be carried, 
posterity (pos ter'i ti), descend¬ 
ants. 

posture (pos'tur), attitude, posi¬ 
tion of body. 

precipice (pres'i pis), a steep cliff, 
prejudice (prej'u dis), previous 
and unfavorable judgment, 
presumption (pre ziimp'shun), ar¬ 
rogance, overconfidence, 
primal (pri'mal), first, 
principles (prm'si p’ls), fundamen¬ 
tal truths or doctrines, upright¬ 
ness. 

privileged (priv'i lejd), having cer¬ 
tain rights, 

procured (pro kurd'), obtained, 
prolific (pro lif'ik), productive, 
fertile. 

prophecies (prof'esiz), predic¬ 

tions of future events, 
prospective (pro spec'tiv), in the 
future. 

prowess (prou'es), bravery, valor, 
punctilio (pungk til'i o), formal ex¬ 
actness, a nice point in conduct 
or ceremony. 

ramparts (ram'parts), walls 

around a fortified place, 
rancor (rang'ker), deep spite or 
malice. 

rapacious (ra pa'shus), greedy, 
given to plunder. 


rational (rash'un al), reasonable, 

wise. 

ravaged (rav'ajd), laid waste, 
plundered. 

rectitude (rek'ti tud), honesty, 
right principles. 

regeneration (re jen er a'shun), re¬ 
newal, reformed. 

remorseless (re mors'les), cruel, 
merciless. 

remote (re mot'), distant, far re¬ 
moved. 

repression (re presh'un), restraint, 
the act of quelling, 
requiem (re'kwe em), a mass for 
the soul of one deceased, 
resonant (rez'o nant), resounding, 
resplendent (re splen'dent), in¬ 
tensely bright. 

rite (rit), a solemn religious 
act. 

rote (rot), repetition of words, 
runes (roonz), mystic writings of 
the earliest Teutonic nations. 

sabre (sa'ber), a cavalry sword, 
sagacious (sa ga'shus), wise, men¬ 
tally quick. 

sagas (sa'gaz), a class of prose 
epics embodying the myths and 
heroic tales of the ancient 
Scandinavians. 

scald (skald) (skald), one of the 
old Scandinavian poets who 
sang or recited heroic deeds, 
semblance (sem'blans), likeness, 
appearance. 

serenity (se ren'i ti), calmness of 
mind, composure, 
servile (serv'd), submissive, cring¬ 
ing. 


VOCABULARY 


significance (sig nif'i kans), mean¬ 
ing, consequence, 
solace (sol'as), comfort in sorrow, 
consolation. 

solitudes (soH tuds), lonely places, 
sonorous (so nb'rus), loud in sound, 
deep-toned. 

sovereignty (suv'er in ti), supreme 
power. 

speculative (spek'u la tiv), con¬ 
sidering or theorizing about a 
matter, risky. 

strategy (strat'e ji), use of an 
artifice or deception in carrying 
out a plan. 

suavity (swav'iti), gentleness, 
subjugation (sub ju ga'shun), con¬ 
quering by force, 
submerging (sub merj'ing), over¬ 
whelming. 

subordinate (sub or'di nat), in¬ 
ferior in rank or importance, 
subject to. 

subsistence (sub sist'ens), means 
of support. 

subtler (sutler), more artful, 
more crafty. 

survives (sur vivs'), remains alive, 
swoon (swoon), to faint, 
sycophant (sik'o fant), a mean or 
servile flatterer of some one in 
a superior position, 
symbols (sim'bols), signs, em¬ 
blems, types. 

theology (the ol'o ji), the study 
that treats of God and man’s re¬ 
lation to Him. 

Thule (thu'le), Scandinavia, 
tocsin’s alarum (tok'sins a- 
lar'iim), an alarm bell. 


337 

tolerate (tol'er at), to endure, to 
permit. 

topographical (top o graf' i kal), 
the physical features of a region 
or locality. 

traditions (tra dish'uns), ancient 
customs. 

tranquil (tran'kwil), calm, quiet. 

transfixed (trans'fixed), pierced 
through. 

transient (tran'shent), fleeting, 
brief. 

transition (tran sish'un), the pas¬ 
sage from one place or condition 
to another. 

transparency (trans p 3 ,r'en si), 
state of being clear. 

traverse (trav'ers), to travel or 
pass over. 

treacherous (trech'er us), faith¬ 
less, treasonable. 

tremendous (tre men'dus), mar¬ 
velous, dreadful. 

tremulous (trem'u liis), trembling, 
affected with fear or timidity. 

trophy (tro'fi), a memorial of 
victory, something won. 

tumult (tu'mult), noisy confusion, 
riot. 

turbulent (tur'bu lent), disorderly, 
riotous. 

Tyre (Tire), a famous ancient city 
of the Phoenicians. 

typical (tip'i kal), of a type, rep- 
presentative. 

tyranny (tir'ani), the hard govern¬ 
ment of an absolute monarch, 
severity. 

ultimate (ul'ti mat), the last, ex¬ 
treme, final. 


VOCABULARY 


338 

unbridled (un bri'dld), unchecked, 
unfathomed (un fath'umd), un¬ 
measured. 

unity (u'ni ti), harmony, agree¬ 
ment. 

universe (u'ni vers), the world, 
unmolested (un mo lest'ed), not 
troubled or annoyed, unharmed, 
unperturbed (un per ter'bd), un¬ 
disturbed. 

unpretentious (un pre ten'shiis), 
not assuming an air of supe¬ 
riority. 

unstable (un sta'bl), unsteady, 
not to be depended upon, 
untainted (un tant ed), unspoiled, 
untraversed (un trav'ersd), not 
traveled. 

untutored (un tu'terd), untaught, 
usurpation (u zer pa'shun), the 
unlawful seizure of power. 

Valhalla (val hal'a), in Scandina¬ 
vian mythology, the palace 
where heroes slain in battle 
dwell forever, 
valiant (val'yant), brave, 
valor (val'er), bravery, courage, 
vandal (van'dal), one who de¬ 
stroys what is beautiful and 
artistic. 

vanish (van'ish), to disappear, 
vassal (vas'al), a subject, one who 
has to serve another, 
vauntingly (vant'ing li), boast¬ 
fully. 

vengeance (venj'ans), the pain 
given another in return for an 
injury received. 


verdant (ver'dant), green, fresh, 
vertebrae (ver'te bre), back-bone, 
the bones of the spinal column, 
vexation (veks a/shun), annoy¬ 
ance, worry. 

vibrant (vi'brant), resounding, 
vigilant (vij'i lant), watchful, 
alert. 

Viking (vi'king), a Scandinavian 
pirate. 

vindicate (vin'dikat), to justify, 
to prove to be right, 
vision (vizh'un), something im¬ 
agined, unreal, an apparition, 
vivid (viv'id), clear, bright, 
voluntarily (vol'un ta ri li), will¬ 
ingly. 

vortex (vor'teks), a whirlpool. 

wan (won), pale, sickly, 
wassail-bout (w&s'sil bowt), a 
drinking round or contest, 
weal (wel), welfare, good, 
welkin dome (wel'kin dom), the 
sky. 

were-Wolf (wSr'woolf), a human 
being transformed into a wolf 
but keeping human intelligence. 

yearning (yern'ing), eager longing, 
earnest desire. 

yeomanry (yo'man ri), English 
farmers, volunteer cavalry. 
Ysabel (Isabel), the Spanish queen 
who aided Columbus, 
yore (yor), long ago, in times past. 

zeal (zel), earnestness, enthusi¬ 
asm. 







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